


the crossroad of our destinies

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Avatar the last airbender!AU, Deceit's name is Dolos, Found Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Virgil POV, Virgil-centric, airbender patton, atla-canon-typical fantasy violence, avatar thomas, canon divergence from atla, earthbender logan, emile is uncle iroh, feel free to interpret it as romantic queerplatonic platonic whatever you like, firebender roman, it's wild just roll with it okay, logan is kind of toph?, remus and deceit are sympathetic and they are also background characters, remy is appa, the roceit is background, there's implied thvi in the epilogue, thomas and logan are brothers, virgil is a secret bender and he can also do the chi blocking stuff ty lee does, waterbender virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: virgil isn't sure how he got roped into this crazy adventure. somehow, he's traveling around with the avatar, his blind earth bending younger brother, a chipper air bender, and a banished fire bender prince, and they're supposed to save the world? virgil can't even tell them he's a water bender. he's not cut out to save anyone.little did he know, they're cut out to save each other - and maybe the whole world in the process.(OR: an avatar the last airbender!au, centering around a water bender virgil)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Thomas Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Emile Picani, Logic | Logan Sanders & Thomas Sanders
Comments: 125
Kudos: 668





	1. book one: earth

**Author's Note:**

> i . . . wrote the entire first chapter in one day . . . how i still do not know . . . the confusion is real  
> huge, huge, HUGE amounts of thanks goes to [@lovelylogans](https://lovelylogans.tumblr.com/) for cheerleading me through this and also beta reading the first chapter. this wouldn't exist without her, and i love her, and i am so eternally grateful 
> 
> chapter one CW: atla-typical fantasy violence, brief nonspecific allusions to child abuse, angst, background death of minor unnamed OCs, family angst, mentions of burns

“This is gonna be so interesting!” Patton says, draping himself on his belly over the ball of air beneath him. “I’ve never seen real earth bending before!”

“That would imply that there’s such a thing as fake earth bending, which there decidedly is not,” Logan says, adjusting his shirt with a huff. Virgil glances up from where he’s sharpening his knife next to the fire, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ve done all kinds of reading about earth bending!” Patton says, seemingly oblivious to Logan’s indignation. “There are scrolls about it all over the Air Nation temples, but I’ve obviously never seen one! Earth benders went extinct so long ago that -”

“What?” Thomas says, lifting his head to stare up at Patton. 

“The Fire Nation desecration reaches beyond our home?” Logan asks, one hand curling into a fist at his side. “They have burned more villages to the ground than ours?” 

Roman pokes at the campfire with a stick, keeping his eyes cast to the ground. “The Fire Nation is trying to wipe out all other benders. They don’t want anyone left but us. Why do you think I ran away from home? My father told me that the other nations attacked us first, but . . .” 

“Falsehood,” Logan snaps. The earth begins to shake beneath him. “We would never do something so horrendous! The Earth Kingdom is a peaceful settlement, we - we would _never_ -”

“Calm down, Rocky, I’m not accusing you,” Roman says. The campfire flares up, and Virgil’s eyes flicker to the waterskin at his side. His hands won’t move fast enough if Roman’s temper causes him to lose control. Something else might, but he refuses. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot of propaganda in the Fire Nation. We’re not all heartless evil bastards. Some of us are just trying to protect our homes. I abandoned a lot when I saved you and your brother from my father’s army.”

“Oh, yes, like what?” Logan snaps. “Like a cushy life in the palace? Like your status as the next in line for overlord of us all and destroyer of my people? Like -”

“Like my twin brother,” Roman says coolly, tone betraying the way the fire surges and sinks in time with his heavy breathing. “Like my best friend, the boy I was to marry. I loved him so much, and he helped me escape, and - and my father probably killed him for his insubordination. I’ll never see him again, and whose fault is that? Mine!” 

The fire surges up in a pillar. Before anyone can react in a meaningful way, a vortex spirals to life around the flames. In a flash, all the oxygen is sucked out of the fire. It dies instantly, leaving a pile of half-charred twigs. Patton lets his bending stance drop, and the vortex falls away. 

“Everyone,” he says quietly, “needs to take some deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. Everyone here has suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. Everyone here has lost something. It’s okay to acknowledge that pain, and hurt, but it’s not okay to blame each other or ourselves. Roman, you can’t control what your father did to you any more than Thomas and Logan can control the fact that they’re earth benders.” 

“I am an earth bender,” Logan says quietly. “Thomas is -”

“The Avatar,” Thomas says. He studies his hands in silence, and Virgil slides his knife into his boot. 

“Yeah, well, Avatar or not, you were born an earth bender,” he says. Everyone looks at him in a surprise that he mirrors internally; he’s not really one for speaking up during moments like this. There have been plenty since they all started traveling together, but Virgil typically keeps his mouth shut. 

“What?” Thomas asks. Logan turns his head towards Virgil’s voice. His unseeing eyes bore right through Virgil, as though they’re peering into his soul. 

“You were born an earth bender,” Virgil repeats. “That’s the whole damn point of the Avatar cycle, isn’t it? The Avatar spirit gets cycled through all the nations so that each Avatar gets a new and different experience to the one before. No matter what anyone says, you’re an earth bender. Just ‘cause you’re the Avatar too, that doesn’t change your birthright.”

His voice slips away from him, falling into the familiar cadence of his grandmother telling him stories as a young child. “You are an earth bender. You were born with the pull of Mother Earth in your bones. The Lion-Turtles have gifted you with an awareness of what is beneath us, always, a firm and unyielding constant in a world too fluid to appreciate it. You must hold steadfast to what is right and true, because no one else will do it for you. Air, flighty and fluid; fire, scorching and shifting; water, rapid and raging; all these will move from one form to the next as it suits their needs. You must anchor them, or no one will.” 

He blinks, snapping himself out of the strange trance he lulled himself into, and becomes aware of the other three staring at him. “What?” he snaps defensively. 

“That was . . . something,” Thomas says. “Where’d you get a story like that?”

“My grandmother,” Virgil says, pulling a knife from inside his robe. He makes sure that everyone catches the sharpness of its edge glinting under the half-full moon before he goes back to sharpening it. “She would tell me stories of the other benders all the time, how every element has its strengths and drawbacks. She told me that every element plays a role in keeping the world balanced, and that someone would have to repair what the Fire Nation was breaking without destroying the Fire Nation in the process.”

“And why not?” Logan asks - not accusing, genuinely curious. He shifts one foot a couple of inches and a rock springs from the ground next to Thomas, allowing Logan to sit down. 

“Because if we lose fire benders completely, we lose everything we worked to rebuild. We need harmony between all four elements. That includes Princey and his fire bending.” 

Roman thrusts a fist forward, and the campfire reignites itself as a small fireball bursts from his fist. “Thanks, Waterboy.” Virgil flinches a little. “What? You’re from the Southern Water Tribe, aren’t you?”

“What? Yeah. What about it?” 

Roman just shrugs and goes back to the campfire.

* * *

Logan is amazing at earth bending. 

Granted, Virgil knows next to nothing about the techniques, other than the fact that they involve a lot of foot movements and heavy grounding. It seems to be the complete antithesis of Patton’s air bending and Roman’s fire bending, both of which appear to center heavily on movement. Still, it’s plain to see that Logan is something of a prodigy. He moves as though the earth he bends is an extension of his own body, controlling it with an easy, fluid grace that belies his solid stances. 

It’s hard to believe, watching him, that he’s the younger brother. It’s hard to believe that he can’t see anything. Roman comments as much, and Logan sends him flying with a blunted earth spike without so much as turning to face him. 

“Ow!” Roman shrieks. He’s unharmed, of course; Patton had swiftly leapt into the air to catch him and return him to the ground. “What was that for?” 

“I can so see,” Logan retorts. He barely comes up to Roman’s shoulder, but he’s solidly built, despite his young age. 

“I thought you were blind!” 

“I am. My eyes have never seen a day of my life. That does not mean I cannot _see_ , you moron. I simply do not see with my eyes. I use my feet to see. The ground tells me everything I need to know. You, for example, are currently clinging to Patton like a terrified lemur, and he is hovering approximately as far above the ground as my forearm is long.” 

“How do you _do that_?!” Roman says, dropping from Patton’s arms to land on the ground. “Also, there’s no way that you’re strong enough to take me down.” 

“And why not?” Logan asks. “I could so take you down.” 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil says. 

“You could not!” Roman boasts. 

“This is a bad idea,” Virgil repeats. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Logan says, turning in Roman’s direction and tilting his head in a clear act of dismissal. “Unless you are afraid to face a young, _blind_ earth bender, _Prince Roman_?”

Roman’s face changes from pride to ice in a split-second. He’ll tolerate Virgil’s “Princey” jabs, but he _hates_ being called by his proper title. “You’re on.”

“Not here!” Thomas yelps. “We are standing in a _very flammable_ forest, and none of us can water bend!” 

“Aren’t you the Avatar, master of all elements?” Roman says testily.

“Only in the Avatar state, at the moment, which I cannot trigger on my own! If you guys set the whole forest on fire, people will come and investigate! We can’t risk being found - _I_ can’t risk being found!” 

The sound of his older brother’s voice seems to snap Logan out of it, at the very least. He shifts his left foot, and Virgil shivers as a small earthquake rumbles through the ground. It’s low-scale enough that anyone else who notices it will pass it off as normal seismic activity. For their little group, however, it’s much more than that; it’s Logan checking the nearby terrain. 

If that isn’t enough to terrify Roman into surrender, Virgil seriously worries about the state of his brain. 

“There is an isolated rocky plain not far from here,” Logan says. “I suggest that we have our battle there. Will tomorrow suffice?”

“Fine by me,” Roman spits, stalking away. Patton drops to the ground and begins to croon to his giant sky bison Remy, stroking his nose. Remy huffs out a breath that rustles the trees around them. Virgil is inclined to agree.

* * *

“I have said it before, and I will say it again. This is a BAD idea.” 

Virgil tugs his thick jacket on over his loose tunic and pants. Logan sits next to him, controlling a small mound of earth like it’s wet clay. With every shift of his perpetually-bare feet, he changes its shape. 

“I will not be injured,” Logan says. “Roman will not intentionally injure me. He considers me an opponent beneath him, and he is too gallant to harm a child.” 

“How old are you, anyway? Not judging or anything, I’m just . . . curious.” 

Logan’s earth mound trembles. “I am . . . twelve years and six months old.” 

Virgil just blinks at him. He’d thought that Patton, newly fourteen, was the youngest member of their crew; he and Roman are both sixteen, and Thomas is seventeen. He’s assumed this whole time that Logan is around Patton’s age, maybe a few months older, despite his slight stature. “That’s . . . younger than I was expecting.” 

“Are you going to remove me from your expedition?” Logan challenges. He clenches his fist, and the earth mound shatters into dust. “I will not abandon Thomas. He is my brother, the only remnant I have of my family. Of my village, my people, my culture. He is everything to me. I will not return to an ashen husk of my home because you do not consider me mature enough for this journey.” 

“You’re the most mature person here, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot,” Virgil says, holding up his hands in an “I-mean-no-harm” gesture. He says it because it’s true, because he believes it, but he also says it because he can see the way the earth trembles below Logan. It reminds him of the sea, in a way - calm and quiet, but constantly roiling beneath the glassy surface. 

Logan takes a deep breath, air in and out, and the earth calms to stillness on his exhale. 

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“You’re welcome. Now that the mushy shit’s out of the way - this is a _terrible idea_ and you shouldn’t fight Roman. Not because you’re young or weak or anything like that, but because if one of you gets seriously injured, it’s not like we can waltz into the nearest village and ask for help.” 

Logan shakes his head, smiling. He looks much older than twelve and a half. 

“Trust me, Virgil. This will not be much of a fight.”

* * *

“If I could talk him out of this, I would,” Thomas tells Virgil. They’re sitting on a tall mound of earth that Thomas had bended up from the plain. Patton hovers casually behind them, sitting cross-legged on a ball of air. Logan and Roman stand facing each other, arms at their sides. 

“The duel will end when one of the participants is unable to bend, or when one participant cedes to the other,” Virgil announces. He’s still not sure how he got roped into refereeing this crazy death match. Patton bends the wind so that his voice carries down to Logan and Roman, but he doesn’t have to. It’s so silent that Virgil could hear for miles. “No attacks shall be permitted which may result in death or grievous bodily harm. Are these rules understood by the participants?” 

“They are,” Roman says. They’re different than the rules to a Fire Nation duel, Virgil thinks, judging by the slight confusion that crosses Roman’s face before he settles back to cool indifference. 

“They are,” Logan says. He and Roman are an arm’s-length apart. 

“Bow!” Virgil calls. Logan and Roman each take a step backward and bow from the waist, a sign of respect between duel participants. Despite their bickering, they do respect each other. (Virgil thinks.) 

“Turn and walk! Ten or fifteen paces!” The traditional standard is ten paces, but Logan’s legs are much shorter than Roman’s, so he has to walk fifteen paces to cross the same amount of ground that Roman does in ten. They turn around and walk, and once they’ve made it the designated distance they turn back to each other. 

“Ready your bending stances!” Roman squares his shoulders and lifts his hands, curling them into fists. Logan spreads his feet apart, planting them shoulder-width apart. Virgil raises a hand up high, bringing it down sharply to connect with his palm like a knife slicing through a fresh kill. 

“Begin!” 

Roman immediately launches a huge fireball at Logan. It’s red, the lowest intensity Roman is capable of producing. Virgil laughs internally; Logan was right. Roman is holding back. Thomas makes a worried noise, but Logan is unaffected. He shifts one foot, thrusts his hands out and flicks them up, and suddenly a massive wall of earth rises in front of him. Roman’s fireball slams harmlessly into it, singing the upper layer of dust but otherwise having no effect. 

“I knew you would temper your attacks for me!” Logan shouts, dropping his wall. “If that had been your usual strength, my wall would have disintegrated!” 

“And you took that risk?!” Roman says. 

“Because I knew you would go easy on me! That is not the point of this duel, Roman! Fight me like you mean it!” Logan stamps his foot, and two massive pillars of earth rise up beside him, one on either side. Another stamp, and the pillars segment into disks. Logan begins to move, still between the pillars as he hurls the disks of earth at Roman. 

Roman dodges the first few disks easily, but Logan is relentless. For every few disks he throws, he stamps his food again, and the pillars rise up again. He draws more and more earth up from beneath him, and it’s all Roman can do to keep himself from being crushed. 

“Are you trying to kill me?!” 

“I thought you were a prince! You should be stronger than this!” 

Roman stands perfectly still, and Logan sends a disk hurtling towards him. Roman screams and throws his hands forwards, and a massive burst of golden-orange fire roars out. It engulfs the disk, pushing it backwards and melting it. Molten rock splashes to the ground, and Roman runs forward. He has twin flames clenched in his fists, like knives, and Logan grins wildly. 

“Finally!” 

The ground grows soft beneath his feet. Roman yells, thrusts a fire-knife forward like he’s going to stab Logan in the head, and Logan vanishes. He drops down, sinking below the earth, and Roman whirls around, confused. The pillars sink down into the ground, and Roman growls. 

“Get up here and fight like a man!” 

The ground rumbles beneath him, almost like Logan is laughing, and then a pillar of earth bursts up beneath Roman and sends him flying into the air. As he falls, another pillar flies up, smashing into him, and then another and another and another. Roman is knocked around like a ragdoll; he fire bends in the air, hurling jets of flame at the earth, but Logan is apparently so far underground that he is unaffected. 

Finally, he slams onto the earth, flat on his back. Logan pops up from underground, covered in a layer of dust, breathing heavily. He takes a single step towards Roman and collapses. 

“Logan!” Thomas shouts. Roman pushes himself to sit up, placing a hand along Logan’s neck. The earth bender doesn’t stir. Roman says something, but it’s inaudible. “Patton, please!” 

“On it,” Patton says, bending Roman’s words toward them. 

“He’s alive,” Roman rasps in their ears. Thomas stands, slamming his foot into the ground, and a curved chute carves itself into their observation mound. Another stamp, and a flat piece of earth appears at the mouth of the chute. Thomas leaps onto it and begins to surf down towards Roman and Logan. 

“A little help?” Virgil asks Patton dryly. Patton offers his hand, pulling Virgil up into his arms, and then they’re flying.

* * *

Logan sleeps for about six hours before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. “What hit me?” he groans. “Did I lose the duel?”

“You both lost, morons,” Virgil says shortly. 

“You and I are the only ones here - no, wait, someone else is laying by the fire. Roman?” 

“Yeah. He’s sleeping off what you two did to each other. Patton and Thomas are off by the river getting water, because if I have to watch Thomas mother-hen over you two anymore I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” He stabs angrily at the fire. “You over-exerted yourself with that crazy tunneling move.” 

“I . . . have never tried it on that large a scale before,” Logan admits, shakily sitting up. “Even now, my bending feels . . . exhausted. My vision is foggy. I - for the first time since I learned to bend, I feel truly _blind_.” He sounds like a scared kid, and it’s enough to evaporate what’s left of Virgil’s anger. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” he says gruffly. “No one’s dead, and you two hopefully have a better understanding of each other’s power now, right?” Logan nods, silent. “Good. Just know that if you ever scare your brother and Patton -” ( _and me_ , he doesn’t say) “- again, I’ll drown you in the fucking river.” 

Logan cracks a smile at that, and it doesn’t fade, even when Thomas returns from the river and practically tackles him into a tearful hug.

* * *

Sometimes, Virgil has regrets. 

Remy coasts through the sky, Patton seated on his head with a loose grip on the reins. Logan, Thomas, and Roman all huddle together, Roman in the middle so that his warmth exudes out to encompass them like a bubble. Virgil is starfished on his back, staring up at the sky. It’s so different to the one that he’s used to seeing over the Southern Pole. 

He misses home. 

He misses the familiar sting of ice and snow against his skin. He misses the scent of seal jerky drying out next to the campfires. He misses packing down the firm snow to create walls for the igloo, misses hunting with his friends and family. 

He misses bending. 

The Fire Nation thinks that they have eradicated water benders from the Southern Pole. They believe that Virgil’s father, whom they cruelly killed on their last raid, was the final water bender. 

They think incorrectly. 

Virgil’s father sacrificed himself to save his son. The pendant Virgil wears around his neck, carved from the rib bone of an ancient and mighty Lion-Turtle, was the only thing he was allowed to keep when his father’s body was prepared for burial. His mother gave it to his father when they were married. She died bringing him into the world, and the Fire Nation made him an orphan. 

“Virgil?” Thomas asks, shifting on Roman’s chest. “Are you okay?” 

Virgil exhales, rolling over so that he’s facing his sleepy friends. “Yeah, Thomas, I’m okay. Just homesick, you know?” 

“I get that,” Thomas says. He reaches over and gently touches his sleeping brother. “At least I have Lo with me, to remind me of home. You don’t even have that. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil says easily. “It’s not like I have a family to go back to, anyway.”

A sad look crosses Thomas’s face, but he doesn’t push. Virgil can’t decide if he’s grateful or disappointed.

* * *

It’s amusing to watch Logan drill Thomas in earth bending. Every time Thomas messes up, Logan throws a pebble at him, and not with his earth bending, either. He will literally pick up the nearest chunk of rock and throw it at Thomas. He hits him in the arm without fail. 

Virgil snickers from where he’s darning a tear in his pants. He has a bone needle in his pack, and it doesn’t take a lot of skill to find plants that he can twist into sturdy fiber thread. He’s already got a pretty sizable ball of thread rolled up beside him. 

“You can sew?” Roman asks. 

Virgil flinches at the sudden noise, nearly pricking his finger with the needle. “Don’t scare a guy like that, Princey!” 

An upset expression crosses Roman’s face, but he brushes it off. “Still!”

“Yeah, I can sew. In the Water Tribe, you have to learn to do stuff for yourself.” _Especially when the Fire Nation kills your parents_ , he doesn’t say. 

Roman bounces eagerly. “Do you think you could teach me to do that?”

“Why the hell do you wanna know how to sew?”

“If something rips, I have to be able to fix it myself,” Roman says firmly. “Teach me, please?” 

Virgil sighs. “I only have one needle, so you have to wait until I’m done with this actual work before I start teaching you. You _will_ prick your fingers a lot, and you are _not_ allowed to bitch at me for this. You brought this upon yourself.” 

Roman just grins, sharp and wild. It’s the grin of a Fire Nation child, and it should strike terror into Virgil’s heart. He’s almost more terrified by the fact that it doesn’t.

* * *

Virgil quietly creeps away, after ensuring that everyone else is soundly asleep. They’re fortunate enough to have camped near a river this time, despite the fact that they’re still in the middle of the woods as they travel. What their endgame is, Virgil doesn’t know. For now, they’re just traveling so that the Fire Nation doesn’t catch them off guard, complacent in one place. 

He steps into the river, and the feeling of water around his ankles is soothing. “Hello,” he breathes. 

Virgil knows that his father wasn’t a water bender. He doesn’t think his mother was a water bender, either, although it’s impossible to say. The pendant that she gave his father was carved by water bending, tiny thin streams of water manipulated skillfully along the surface until they etched grooves. It doesn’t make sense that she would have trusted its creation to someone else, but if she had no choice . . .

Despite his insecurities, being in the water always makes him feel closer to both of them. 

He slowly lifts a hand, and a stream of water coils up to meet him. It wraps around his wrist, like a vine, like a friend, coiling up towards his neck. Virgil exhales, tips backwards, and lets himself fall into the water. He moves his hands as he falls, bending the river water so that it flows around his head. The water rushes through his ears, and Virgil is at peace. 

He stares up at the full moon, pretending he can see his father’s smile staring back at him in the craters on its surface.

* * *

“There are spirits in this place,” Thomas says. His eyes aren’t glowing the way they do when the Avatar State overtakes him, but there is an unnatural shine to his irises. “They are here, and they are angry.”

“Why?” the village leader asks. Thomas turns his head towards the village leader’s young daughter, sees the way she cowers away from her father. Virgil doesn’t have whatever supernatural perception Thomas does, but he doesn’t need Avatar State eyes (or whatever the fuck is going on) to see the bruises that litter her arms under her tight sleeves. 

Thomas takes a step forward. The earth shakes beneath him. Logan shifts to a bending stance in a single breath, but Thomas puts a hand out to stop him. Ice-blue wisps of fog coil up around him, and Virgil takes a step backwards as a massive spirit-dragon appears in the village square. 

“They are angry,” Thomas repeats, and his voice reverberates with a power well beyond his years. 

Yeah. Virgil’s pretty angry, too.

* * *

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Logan comments idly, as they fly away from the village. He’s holding tightly to his brother; without the ground to, well, _ground_ him, he tends to cling to Thomas. “With the spirits.” 

“You could sense them?”

“Not with my earth bending. They’re not solid. But I could feel them. I knew they were there, and . . . and once you spoke, I knew they were angry.” 

“No child should be hurt,” Roman says darkly. He’s slumped over the side of the saddle, watching the ground pass by below him. “No - no child. No child should be hurt.” 

Patton is silent, clutching Remy’s reins with white knuckles. He’s been silent since they left, but Virgil is too attentive to miss the tears streaming down his face. They’d saved the day, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a pit in all their stomachs.

* * *

When the Fire Nation soldier bursts through the bushes, everyone moves in an instant. 

Patton and Logan spring in front of Thomas immediately; Logan is in an earth bending stance and Patton has wind spiraling around his fingertips. Virgil draws a knife from his sleeves and grips it tightly. The soldier looks to be in his mid-sixties or so, with gray-white hair pulled back in a topknot and a beard flowing down his front. He has a round potbelly, but there is something sharp and militant in his eyes. 

Roman is the only one who hasn’t moved. “U - uncle?!” 

Everyone stops and stares at him. “Uncle?” Patton echoes. The Fire Nation soldier blinks at Roman, and his entire face softens. 

“My beloved nephew.” 

Roman throws himself at the strange soldier, and the soldier catches him, hugging him and holding him close. “Uncle! Uncle, you - what happened?! After I left, Remus, Dee - what happened to them?!” 

“I will explain all in time,” the soldier (Uncle?) says. “But first, perhaps you should tell your new friends that I am not a threat before they kill me?” There’s a wry smile on his lips as he looks at them all, a bedraggled group of teenagers ready to fight and kill. 

Roman just hugs the strange man tighter, and Virgil sheaths the knife when he hears Roman’s muffled sobs. Despite their constant bickering, he knows that Roman really, truly does miss his home, and now he has a small piece of it back. Virgil imagines he’d react in a similar way if a member of his family showed up right now (even though he has no one to show up). He can’t begrudge Roman this little scrap of comfort.

* * *

The Fire Nation soldier is revealed to be Roman’s Uncle Emile, brother of the current Fire Lord. “My brother,” Emile says, stroking his beard slightly, “can only be described as . . . _a little bitch_.” 

“Remus,” Roman repeats, sitting next to his Uncle and gripping his hand. “My brother, Uncle, what happened to him? What happened to Dolos?” 

“Your father was furious at them for letting you and the young earth benders escape the capital,” Emile says. “He dared not wound Prince Remus, but Dolos is only a noble’s son. He was spared no such courtesy.” 

“Is he dead?” Roman whispers. He’s shaking; Virgil wonders if he should attempt to offer some sort of comfort. 

“He is not dead,” Emile says. “Your father challenged him to an Agni Kai - a traditional fire bending duel. Dolos barely fought back. He knelt, prostrated himself, begged for forgiveness. The Fire Lord did not grant it. The left side of his face and torso are badly burned. But he will survive.” 

Roman blinks, and tears pour down his face. 

“Your father banished him, and you as well,” Emile says. “Remus has been sent on a mission to capture the Avatar - to capture you.”

“Where is Dolos?” Roman rasps. 

“Remus insisted on taking him with him. He told your father that he would leave Dolos in an outlying colony somewhere, but he remains below deck on the ship. He is healing from his wounds. He will be scarred for life, but he will still have a life.” 

“I want to see them,” Roman says. 

Emile shakes his head. “Prince Roman, no. It is a bad idea.”

“Why?” 

“If you are spotted on board the Fire Nation ship, the crew will have no choice but to take you back to the Fire Nation as a prisoner. You are a fugitive. It cannot be risked.”

“I’ll risk my own safety if I damn well please!” Patton flinches at Roman’s shout, but Emile remains calm. 

“I will not risk your safety, Nephew. Will you risk the safety of your twin? Your betrothed? Your new friends?” 

Roman’s fire-angry glare shifts to them, to Virgil, who meets his eyes coolly even despite his terror. He won’t let Roman know that he’s afraid. He knows how much Roman hates it when they look at him as though he’s a fire bender to be afraid of. Roman exhales, and the campfire flares but he remains calm. 

“I . . . I won’t. But I miss them, Uncle.”

“I know you do,” Emile says. “My status as a disgraced general has finally come in handy, for I have been assigned as your brother’s advisor on this so-called fool’s errand. I will do my best to keep him safe and out of trouble.”

Roman fidgets with his hands. “Could . . . could I write them a letter?” 

Emile hums, considering. “I suppose that could be arranged.” 

Roman scribbles down two scrolls and passes them to his uncle. “Please take care of them for me, until - until I can come back and take care of them myself.” Emile nods, kissing his forehead. 

“I am proud of you, my nephew.” 

He disappears back through the bushes he came from, and Roman stares longingly after him. “Roman?” Patton asks. “Would - do you want a hug?” Roman stands stiff, back straight, shoulders pushed back. For a moment, he doesn’t look like their friend. He looks like a soldier. 

Then he turns around, and his eyes are wide and wet, and there’s snot dribbling down one corner of his face. “ _Yeeeeeeeees_ ,” he wails. Patton smiles, opens his arms, and lets Roman come crashing into them.

* * *

Before they head out the next morning, a bird flutters down to land in front of Roman. He gasps when he realizes what it is, gathering the sharp-taloned bird into his arms and crooning over it. He showers its head in kisses. Virgil is lost. 

“This is Dragon! He was my pet back home, he’s a messenger hawk!” The bird chirps, nibbles on Roman’s ear lobe, and presents him with the parchment tied to his leg. Roman snatches the scroll, unrolling it eagerly, and Virgil peers over his shoulder. 

The upper half of the scroll is a near-illegible scrawl, with a splotched signature that Virgil can barely make out as “Prince Remus” accompanying some doodles and a splatter that looks almost like blood. The lower half is in shaky but beautiful calligraphy. The opening address is “My darling flower,” and the ending signature reads “Yours forever, Dolos.” 

“My love,” Roman whispers, tracing his fingers over Dolos’s signature. “And my brother . . . I love them . . . so much.”

“You gave up a lot to be with us,” Thomas says. “I appreciate everything that you’ve sacrificed. Logan and I would be dead without you.” 

“I’m glad no one is dead,” Roman says softly, voice wavering. “I just . . .”

“You love them,” Patton says. “We understand.” 

Roman strokes the parchment. His fingers come away slightly black with ink from the upper portion that his brother scrawled, and he exhales. “I am going to write them back. I’ll send Dragon to them. I’m not losing touch with my family, not again. Not this time. Remus and Dolos aren’t going to leave my life, not this time. They’ve got just as big a bone to pick with my father as we do. They can give us usable information.” 

“Will that endanger them?” Logan asks. 

“Uncle Emile is there, too. He can help them be discreet. I’m not abandoning my old family for this one, but - but I won’t betray you to my father, either. That’s not what a prince does.” Roman squares his shoulders again, and Virgil blinks in surprise. Roman doesn’t look ridiculous, like a child-soldier, or militant, like an enemy. He looks proud and strong and regal.

He looks like a real prince.

“I support you,” Logan says, startling all of them. “You are a prince, even if you are not _our_ prince. I trust your judgement.” Roman seems the most shocked of all of them by Logan’s bold proclamation, especially considering the heated duel they’d had just three weeks ago, but Logan’s milky grey eyes look like they’re staring into Roman’s soul. 

Virgil is familiar with that look. 

“If Lo trusts you, I trust you,” Thomas says, and he smiles widely. Patton nods, smile bright and bubbly, and Roman looks to Virgil. He offers a thumbs-up and ruffles Roman’s hair. Roman squawks and bats at him, pushing him away. Virgil laughs and falls over easily into a back-bend. 

“Once you’re sure Thomas is solid on his earth-bending, we’re going to a sacred Fire Nation site on the fringes of the empire,” Roman tells Logan. “Fire comes next in the Avatar cycle, right? After earth?” 

“I think so?” Thomas says. 

“I know so,” Logan confirms. “And I think he’s ready.”

Roman nods, and the fire blazing in his eyes is the most reassuring thing Virgil’s seen in quite a while. (It’s strange to say, considering Roman is a Fire Nation prince, but Virgil’s used to people judging him by appearances. He’s learning to reconsider his assumptions.) 

“Alright then,” Roman says. “I’ll write back to my brother, try and find out what sites might be relatively empty so that we can camp ourselves out there. Fire Nation, here we come.” 


	2. book two: fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of fantasy ableism, character death of minor background OCs, cursing, mentions of war crimes, atla-canon-typical fantasy violence, mild angst, injury, brief blood mention, mentions of murder

“So you really can’t bend at all?” Roman asks. 

Virgil stiffens, rolling his shoulders back to try and relax the tension gathering there. He knew this question would come up sooner or later, and he has spent an inordinate amount of time preparing his response. “I don’t bend.” 

It’s not a lie. Virgil would lie outright, but Roman had tried that a couple of weeks ago only to have Logan immediately bust him. (As if he needed another reason to be the most terrifying twelve-year-old Virgil has ever met: his earth bending makes him a human lie detector.) Instead, Virgil answers with technical truths. They’re not the answers Roman is looking for, but they’re not going to earn a “Falsehood!” from Logan, either. 

“What’s it like?” Roman leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. “Not being able to bend? I know that every type of bending feels different, but I don’t know what it would feel like to not bend at all.” 

“It’s not so bad, not bending,” Virgil says. “I mean, bending might make my life easier, but it also might make my life more difficult.” 

“Have you ever seen it? Water bending, I mean?” 

A beat of silence. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.” 

“What does it look like?” 

“It’s . . .” Virgil searches for words that won’t betray his secret. “Have you ever seen dancers?” 

“I’m an ex-Fire Nation prince, Virgil. Of course I’ve seen dancers.” 

“But have you seen ribbon dancers? The way the silk arcs through the air, rippling and elegant, controlled and powerful . . . that’s what water bending looks like. To me, anyway. Snow and ice bending are different, and of course healing is different, but water bending . . .” Virgil’s throat chokes up. “It’s beautiful.” 

Roman is quiet, subdued. “I know my father. I know what he did to the water benders of the Southern Pole. I . . . I’m sorry.” 

“They killed my father,” Virgil says softly. “My mother died giving birth to me, and my father . . . he died protecting me. They killed him instead of me.” Roman gently places a hand on Virgil’s knee, all traces of joking gone, and Virgil whines softly.

“I am so sorry,” Roman murmurs, “that my father has destroyed your life.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Virgil says. Before starting this journey, he never could have pictured himself saying something like that to a fire bender, much less a former prince. But Roman isn’t just some prince, some foreign enemy. He’s Virgil’s friend. “You didn’t kill my father, and you didn’t give the orders to the general that did. It isn’t your fault, Roman. You’re not responsible for your dad and his tomfuckery.” 

Roman snorts a little at the swear. A whip of air smacks Virgil’s arm. “ _Virgil!_ ” Patton says, scandalized. “Watch your language!” Virgil just laughs, and Roman laughs with him.

* * *

Virgil is hesitant to enter Fire Nation territory, even if it’s just the outlying colonies. Roman assures him that nothing will go wrong, that they’ll be safe, but he isn’t quite sure if he believes him. “My father rarely visits the outlying colonies,” he tells Virgil. “My people are suffering under such a harsh regime. They will not aid him.” 

They still force him to stay with Remy and Thomas in the woods when they venture into town for supplies. “I know the Fire Nation better than any of you!” Roman protests.

“And the Fire Nation knows you,” Logan tells him firmly. “Stay with my brother and Remy. If something goes wrong, you’ll have to protect them and get Thomas out of here.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Thomas says firmly, gripping Logan’s shoulders. Logan reaches up and covers his brother’s hand with his own. “Promise me, Logan.”

“That is not a promise I can realistically make, Thomas. I cannot control the actions of others,” Logan says. “But I can promise you that I will do my best to avoid unnecessary confrontations and keep a low profile.” 

“You duelled Roman into the ground, like, two and a half weeks after you met him,” Thomas laughs. “I don’t think subtlety is in your nature.” Logan scoffs at him, but he doesn’t push Thomas’s hand out of his hair when he ruffles it. 

Patton ties a strip of fabric around his forehead, obscuring his air bender arrow tattoo. When they first met him, he was bald, but now that he’s been on the run with them for so long, his hair has grown back in. It’s a tousled mess of coppery curls, and they match the bright copper freckles splattered across his nose. 

“Do you think you’re going to keep your hair or shave it off again?” Roman asks. Patton reaches up to touch his hair. 

“It’s strange to get used to,” he says. “I’m used to feeling the wind on the skin of my head. It’s so weird! But I kinda like the way it looks. Do you think it looks weird?” 

“I think it looks nice,” Roman says. 

“I think you look fantastic,” Logan says dryly. 

“Thank you, Lo!”

“Roman, however, looks like a drowned platypus-bear.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Roman squawks. “Why does Patton get to look good?” 

“Roman,” Logan says, slow and patient like he’s talking to a toddler, “I can’t see either of you. I”m fucking blind.” Roman throws a fireball at him, which Logan easily dodges, laughing. Patton flicks a hand up to extinguish the fireball before Roman can set the forest ablaze.

* * *

The Fire Nation is loud. 

It’s much louder than Virgil’s village ever was. The air is sharp and sweet, smelling like spices and sweet incense and wood ash. Virgil sticks close to Logan as Patton bounces happily in front of them. He reaches down and takes Logan’s hand in his. 

It’s so small.

“I do not need you to hold my hand,” Logan says testily. 

“This isn’t for you,” Virgil hisses, gripping Logan’s hand tightly. “This is for me.” Logan turns to him, face scrunched up in confusion and annoyance, before exhaling softly.

“You’re telling the truth.” He keeps holding Virgil’s hand as they follow Patton through the bazaar, and Virgil exhales in relief.

* * *

Roman squeals in excitement when they bring back the little pastries he had requested. “I love them!” he squeals. “They’re my favorites, I -” His eyes go misty as he unwraps the parcel. “On our birthday, Remus would always get to pick out the cake. I was happy as long as the chef made a tower of these.” 

He takes a bite, and the tears spill down his cheeks. “They’re just like I remember.” Before any of them can offer any sort of consolation, Roman is wiping at his eyes and offering his pastries to them. 

“We can’t take them,” Patton says gently. “They’re your special piece of home.” 

Roman shakes his head and pushes the parcel towards them. “Please, I insist. I want to share with my friends.” Virgil is the one to break the strange, motionless silence, breaking off a corner. The pastry is layered with a thick, syrupy honey that leaves sticky residue on his fingers. When he pops it into his mouth, a sweet spice explodes across his tongue. There’s a slight, residual burn that tingles through his mouth as he swallows. 

“I know, right?” Roman says, reading something in Virgil’s facial expression. Virgil nods, licking the honey off his fingers. His obvious enjoyment is enough to encourage the rest of the group to start snacking on pieces of the treats.

* * *

Roman keeps every letter that Dragon brings him tucked against his chest. Under his shirt is a leather pouch that he attaches to his chest by tying it with strings, and inside he keeps the scrolls that he receives. “Remus and Dolos probably can’t keep my letters,” he tells Virgil. “They’ll have to burn them to make sure that no one else sees them.” 

“Why?”

“If the crew finds out that the exiled prince is sending messages to them, they’re in danger. Remus is already toeing the line by keeping Dolos aboard the ship. Discovering that they’re in contact with me endangers our lives and theirs.” 

Virgil wants to ask why Roman bothers putting so much care and effort into the crafting of his letters if he knows they’re going to get ruined. He spends so much time staring off into space, thinking of the perfect words, and then he sketches out elaborate doodles. Remus’s are always weird and kind of deranged, but Remus sends them back in kind. 

Dolos’s letters all have intricate, elaborate borders of twining flowers on them, and more than once Virgil has caught Roman doodling sparrow-snakes onto the letters for his love. “He loves them,” Roman tells him. “I promised him a pet sparrow-snake as a wedding present.” 

“Why would you do that?” Virgil asks, pulling one of his knives from his sleeve and examining the blade’s edge for imperfections. 

“Because it would make Dolos happy,” Roman says, looking up with an uncharacteristically fond expression. “I love Dolos. I want him to be happy. But I also want him to be alive, so . . . so I have to sacrifice his happiness and mine to keep him that way.” 

Virgil sets his knife down and reaches out to touch Roman’s shoulder. “I know that you love him,” he says softly. “And I know that he means so much to you that you would kill to keep him safe. You’d do anything for him.”

“Not anything,” Roman says. 

“What, then? What wouldn’t you do?” 

“I wouldn’t sacrifice you,” Roman says, eyes burning and serious. “I wouldn’t sell you and the others out to my father, even if it meant he would take me back. I love Remus and Dolos, I do, but you guys are . . . you’re my friends.” The way he says that word, _friends_ , has a heavy finality about it. It carries a gravity that Virgil didn’t expect. “I wouldn’t be worthy of Dolos if I sold my friend out. And anyway, I like you guys too much to let you die.” 

“How touching,” Virgil says dryly, smacking Roman’s head with the flat of his blade. The only part of Roman that’s damaged is his pride. 

That doesn’t stop him from squawking in rage and chasing Virgil all across their campsite.

* * *

Dragon lands on Roman’s outstretched forearm with ease, even though Remy is still coasting through the air. Roman coos to the bird, stroking his back as he reaches up and nips at Roman’s hair and ear. 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Thomas asks, eyeing the bird suspiciously. 

“Not that bad,” Roman says. “When he nibbles my hair, it only feels like a light tugging, and he never bites my ear hard enough to hurt or bleed. It’s like a pinching feeling. I’m fine with it. Besides, he’s a good little birdy! Isn’t that right, Dragon? You’re a good little messenger birdy!” 

Dragon wraps his massive talons around the reinforced sleeve of Roman’s jacket and coos. Roman unties the scroll from his leg and spreads it out on the back of the saddle. Virgil carefully drops little weights on the corners to keep it spread out without blowing away. “What’s the intel?”

The intel, as it turns out, is a map of the Fire Nation, with a few small islands marked in red and black. “These are all sacred fire bending sites,” Roman muses, slowly tracing his fingers over the map. “And this is the code Re and i used when we were children. We used to write secret messages to each other.”

“What does it say?”

“He’s marking which islands are safe.”

“None of them are safe, because they’re in the middle of the Fire Nation,” Virgil mutters. Roman glares at him. “What? It’s not a comment on you personally, Princey. I know you love the Fire nation, I know it’s home for you. But it’s currently under the thumb of your tyrannical father, who’s a notorious jackass that wants all of us dead.” 

Roman lets his fingers skim over the ocean. One of the islands, the only unmarked one, is surrounded by drawings of monsters. There is writing above the island drawing, the only neatly-printed script on the entire map. It looks like Dolos’s handwriting. Roman smiles. 

“What does it say?” 

“It says ‘Here there be Dragons.’ It’s an old Fire Nation children’s story - that island is, supposedly, where the last of the dragons was slain. The water is so rough and choppy that there’s not a single chance of a ship being pulled into that island.” 

“And we’re supposed to be able to get to it?” 

“By air, we could,” Roman says. “Remy could fly us in. There are pretty regular storms, but if we go on the heels of one we’ll make it before the next one hits. No Fire Nation battle cruiser is getting to that island - but we will. We can. It’s the safest place in the whole Fire Nation, probably. It would be a good base of operations, at least for a little while.” He splays his fingers over the island. 

“You miss home,” Logan says gently. “You want to be back on Fire Nation soil more than anything.”

“Not anything,” Roman says. “Not more than your safety. If I thought it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t suggest it. But as far as I know, it _is_ safe, and . . . and if we’re there, it’s mostly rock. There’s no chance of us setting fire to a forest and attracting unwanted attention.” 

“That sounds like it’ll work,” Patton calls, turning his head around just enough to glimpse them without taking his eyes off the sky. “I’m on board with it.” 

“I trust Roman,” Virgil says. “If he thinks that island is safe . . . I’m with him.” 

Thomas studies his face. Virgil maintains a calm expression, despite his nerves. “Alright, then. Fire Nation it is.” 

“Yip yip!” Patton calls. Remy swishes his tail irritably, but he turns anyway.

* * *

It gets hard to find water in the Fire Nation. 

It has to be there, obviously, because sustaining life without water is impossible. But when compared to the flowing rivers of the Earth Kingdom forests and the ever-present oceans and ice of the South Pole, the Fire Nation is practically a desert. 

Still, Virgil finds that their group is drawn to the water almost instinctively. Realistically, it’s because Remy needs to drink and to keep himself clean, and while they can all make do with a little waterskins, he needs a large body of water. Virgil still finds it like fate or destiny to be able to find so many little places to connect with his element, given where they are. 

The river nearby is smaller than any he’s seen before, full of large, mossy rocks that he can easily fall and hurt himself on. He carefully removes his shoes and steps into the water. It takes a minute to find a spot where he can achieve a normal bending stance, but once he does, he inhales. 

“Vee?”

Virgil nearly falls as he whirls around, seeing Logan standing in front of him. “Is - that is Vee, isn’t it?” 

“Y - yeah, Lo, it’s me,” he calls. “You weren’t sure?” 

“You’re standing in the river,” Logan says. “The water fucks with my earth bending, so it obscures my vision a little bit. I knew someone was there, but I didn’t know who it was . . .”

“It’s me,” Virgil says. 

“Why are you out here in the middle of the river?” 

“I miss home,” Virgil says. “We don’t have rivers like this, but we have water everywhere. We’re surrounded by ice and ocean and . . . and there’s just water, no matter where you look. And that’s why I’m here.” 

“I understand,” Logan says, sitting at the edge of the river. “There is earth all around me, but all earth feels different. This is nothing like the earth that I knew at home. It’s full of ash and volcanic overflow, which makes for rich soil that nourishes plant life well. But I miss the rocks of my home village.” His voice is quiet. “I do not think my home village exists anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

“They knew that the Avatar had been born into an earth bending family. They travelled through the Earth Kingdom, searching for the Avatar . . . Thomas and I ran in the middle of the night. I could not let him leave alone. As we ran, I smelled the smoke, but Thomas . . . he must have seen the village go up in flames.” 

Virgil hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. “Is he . . . okay?” 

“I assume so,” Logan says softly. “He never tells me otherwise. Then again, I doubt he would say anything to me if he was. He doesn’t like to worry me, which is stupid, because he’s my brother. I’m _always_ worried about him. Especially when he goes and _hides_ shit from me.” 

“You curse a lot for a twelve year old,” Virgil tells him. Logan throws a rock at him.

* * *

The island is beautiful, Virgil thinks. It’s all tall, imposing mountains with scraggly trees clinging to the cliffs and shining black-sand beaches. As Remy descends, Virgil spies a glimpse of a gleaming golden building hidden in the mountains. “What’s that?” he asks Roman. 

“It’s a Fire Nation temple,” Roman tells him. His eyes are wide and shiny as he stares at the island, even as the waves crash down onto the beach. “Fire Sages would study there, calling on the spirits and seeking their advice. This temple’s been abandoned for who knows how long, since it’s virtually inaccessible these days.” 

“Is that where we’re going to study?” Thomas asks, leaning over the side of the saddle. 

“We can study anywhere on the island,” Roman responds, “but yeah, we probably will spend a fair amount of time there. It’s a traditional place to train in fire bending.” 

Remy touches down on the beach, and almost immediately a dark, choppy wave crashes down over his tail. The flying bison snorts loudly, irritated, and lurches forward off the beach. “Easy there, boy,” Patton soothes, reaching to pat at his head. 

“Where are we going to camp?” Logan asks. 

“We’re on the beach right now,” Thomas says, “but I don’t think we can stay here. The ocean is too unpredictable, not to mention ships could spot us. I think it’s best if we move inland, try to camp out somewhere in there.” 

“That sounds good,” Roman says. He jumps off of Remy’s back and sinks to his knees, digging his hands into the black sand. “Oh, I’ve missed this . . .”

“What is it?”

“Volcanic sand. It’s formed from lava, there’s no feeling like it!” Roman happily begins to roll around in the sand, laughing like a little kid. Virgil watches him indulgently for a couple minutes before he starts harassing him to lead them inland.

* * *

They set up camp at the base of one of the large mountains. Logan and Thomas earth bend some shelter structures out of the rock, and Logan hollows out a campfire pit. Roman goes and finds good firewood, easily bending a campfire to life. Virgil settles down next to Logan as Roman begins to talk about fire bending to Thomas. 

“You know how to do this,” he says. “Not consciously, of course, but you’re the Avatar. You were a fire bender in some of your previous lives. The memory of bending is somewhere inside you. We just have to unlock it.” 

“And how do we do that?” Thomas asks. 

“We start with the bending stances,” Roman says, “and we work our way up from there. A word of caution - I can only teach you some of fire bending.”

“What do you mean?”

* * *

“I can’t bend lightning.” 

“Fire benders can bend _lightning?!_ ” Thomas gasps. 

“Not all of us,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Remus and I had training in lightning bending, since we’re princes, but neither of us mastered it. To the best of my knowledge, anyway . . .” 

“That’s really cool, though,” Thomas says. 

“You know what’s _really_ cool?” Roman says. “Redirecting lightning. If bending lightning is rare, redirecting lightning is _crazy_ rare. It’s not really a fire bending technique, I don’t think, cause Uncle Emile’s the one who pioneered it. He told me he used water bending techniques to develop it.” 

That perks Virgil’s interest. “Water bending?” 

Roman nods, explaining the way his uncle had developed the redirection technique in between instructing Thomas and adjusting his bending stances. Virgil listens, quietly taking mental notes in case he can use any of these stances in his own bending practices. The ocean is so different to the one at the South Pole. 

Virgil creeps away at night, after they’re all asleep. Patton is snuggled up to Remy, tugging the flying bison’s tail over himself like a blanket. Logan and Thomas are pressed close together, Logan’s quiet breaths obscured by Thomas’s snores. Roman is sprawled out on his stomach like a starfish, face totally obscured by his growing mop of wild curls. It’s warm enough in the Fire Nation that no one feels the need to huddle up to him for warmth, letting him spread out the way he apparently normally does. 

As he makes his way to the ocean, Virgil hums to himself, an old lullaby that he remembers from his childhood. It’s an old tale about spirits and balance and the moon, and it comforts him. The Fire Nation island is dark, but the moon overhead is bright and full. Virgil can feel it pulling on him as he creeps ever closer to the ocean. He steps out from the shadow of the sparse forest lining the coast onto the black sand of the beach just as a massive wave breaks against the shore. The water is black as pitch, and the moon gleams overhead like a jewel, reflecting beautifully on the water. 

“Hello,” Virgil whispers. The black sand is unlike anything he’s ever felt; it glides smoothly over the skin of his bare feet, slipping between his toes as he digs them in for balance. He understands why Roman missed a beach like this. 

Virgil knows that he isn’t strong enough to bend the ocean. Water is one thing, but the ocean is under the control of the spirit La, and Virgil doesn’t want to mess with spirits. For once, he isn’t out here to practice his bending. 

“Tui, Spirit of the Moon,” he says softly, “you gave me the gift of water bending, and taught me to wield it for defense. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” Reaching into the small bag tied at his hip, he pulls out a piece of fruit he’d saved from their dinner, one of the two finest. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” A wave rolls in, and he carefully sets the fruit down on a large, broad leaf. It’s carried out to sea, like a tiny boat, and Virgil quickly loses sight of it. He doesn’t bother to try and keep track of it; he has another sacrifice to make. 

“La, Spirit of the Ocean, you gave me the gift of the water I bend, and taught me to wield it for healing. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” He produces the second piece of fruit he’d saved. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” Another wave rolls in, and Virgil watches another leaf-boat disappear into the ocean. 

He’s done this spirit sacrifice every full moon that he can remember. Even on this journey, he’s done it, setting the sacrifices of the nicest parts of dinner he can save into the nearest body of water. He hopes that the rivers will carry his sacrifices out to La.

Traditionally, the spirit prayers are meant to be said in the plural. Virgil’s father had told him stories of the past, when all the water benders of the tribe would gather and sacrifice and pray together, thanking Tui and La for their gifts. Once the Fire Nation raids had begun, they had stopped. 

Virgil makes a point to do it every single full moon. Bending is a precious gift, and deserves to be treated as such. He steps closer to the ocean, bending down to dip his fingers into the waves. The water is chilly, but it’s nothing compared to the burning cold of his home ocean. He lifts his hand to his mouth and gently licks his fingers, grinning. 

He’s missed the taste of salt water.

* * *

It takes Thomas almost a week to be able to produce fire. 

At first, all he can produce are puffs of dark smoke and the occasional spark. Roman seems ecstatic with this progress. “It’s good!” 

“It’s not fire,” Thomas says dejectedly. “It’s not anything.” 

“Most firebenders start out with smoke,” Roman says. “At least it’s dark! That’s a good sign! Dark smoke is always better than pale smoke. Remus’s smoke was pale for the first two months that we practiced.” 

“So . . . I’m not a failure?” 

“Of course you are not a failure,” Logan says, smacking his brother’s shoulder. “Do not say stupid things. It is beneath you.” 

Virgil snorts, laying out his array of knives. They gleam in the strong Fire Nation sunlight, and the edges are freshly sharpened. “You’re the fuckin’ Avatar, Thomas. You’re not a failure.” 

“Yeah!” Roman says, trying to be helpful. “Hey, at least you can bend!” 

“Roman!” Patton hisses. Logan glares at him disapprovingly, and Thomas frowns. Virgil is confused for a second, until he sees Patton glance at him sympathetically. 

Oh. 

They think Roman was making a dig at him, because they think that he can’t bend. 

Roman looks at him in confusion, and then immediately claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh - shit - _fuck_ , Virgil, I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to - I’m so _sorry_ -”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s all good.”

“It’s _not_ all good, though,” Roman says. “I never meant to imply that you’re not as important as us just because you can’t bend, I -”

“It’s all good, Ro, I mean that,” Virgil says. “I don’t bend, but that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless. I have all of these to keep me safe, and that’s not the only trick I have up my sleeve.” 

“What do you have up your sleeve?” Logan asks him. “Besides many, many knives, anyway.” 

“Water bending can be used for healing,” Virgil says. “There are plenty of scrolls about it in my home village. Different types of bending use different energy pathways, and if you know where those pathways flow, you can cut them off.” 

“You can take away someone’s bending?” Roman whispers. 

“Not permanently,” Virgil says, picking up one of his knives and fiddling with it so that he doesn’t have to look at anyone. “It’s only temporary. It leaves them weak and semi-paralyzed, and unable to bend, but they recover after half an hour or so. I try not to use it unless I have to, cause I know how much benders rely on their abilities.” 

“That’s a pretty powerful skill,” Thomas says quietly. 

“I guess. But you’re the Avatar, so you’d know all about power, wouldn’t you?” 

Thomas nods, but there’s still something strange in his eyes. 

Virgil goes for a walk by the ocean. When he comes back, the strangeness is gone.

* * *

“Why am _I_ the one who has to go get firewood?” Virgil complains. 

“Because I did it last time, and Patton did it the time before that, and Thomas and Roman are off doing fire bending practice somewhere,” Logan says. “It’s your turn.” 

“I can go,” Patton offers. “It’s not that big of a deal!” 

“No, Logan is right,” Virgil sighs, rolling to his feet. “It’s my turn to go get the firewood, so I’ll go get it. It’s not really _that_ big of an imposition.” He pats his tunic, boots, sleeves down to make sure that he’s fully stocked with knives in case something happens. “I’ll meet you all back here, alright?” 

He tightens the straps of his boots and heads off inland in search of firewood. 

The island is very pretty, Virgil will give it that. The forest is almost non-existent this far inland, but there are plenty of small, woody plants and shrubs that he can gather wood from. He has an armful tucked against his side when he hears the noise. It’s a pained cry, and for a moment he thinks it’s Roman or Thomas. 

Quickly, he shakes his head to clear it and refocus. Thomas and Roman are training closer to the shoreline today, so they wouldn’t be this far inland. And the cry he’d heard . . . it wasn’t quite human. 

The cry echoes again, but there’s something different about it. Virgil ties the firewood together and throws it over his shoulder, scrambling off towards the cry. “I’m coming!” 

He realizes that this is kind of a stupid move. He realizes that he could be running straight into danger. What if it’s a trap? What if he gets himself killed? Despite his fear, there’s something in him pulling him forward. The cry sounds real, and it sounds pained. Who or whatever is making it needs help, and Virgil will not stand idly by and let someone suffer because of his fear. 

He makes his way to a cliff, and he can hear whoever’s crying on the other side. The cliff is tall, but not unscalable. Virgil’s used to climbing glaciers back home, and while ice is slippery and more perilous than rock, he can rely on his bending to keep himself steady. Here, he’s climbing with no support. 

Virgil pulls off his boots and knots the laces together, slinging them around his shoulders. Going barefoot will ensure that he has a better grip on the cliff as he climbs. The sun gleams sharply on the dark rocks, and Virgil goes slowly to make sure he doesn’t accidentally grab a sharp rock and slice his hands open. He hasn’t had to climb like this in quite a while, but he enjoys it, despite the reason for his climb. 

When he finally pushes himself up to the top of the cliff, he gasps. He’s found a small valley, hidden in the large, dark mountains, and tucked inside is a building. It’s built almost into the shadow of the mountain from dark brick, with a dark red tiled roof and gleaming golden accents. This must be the Fire Nation temple he’d spotted when they flew in, he realizes. 

The cry echoes again, and Virgil realizes that it’s coming from the temple. He quickly pulls his boots off from around his neck and tugs them on, knotting the laces securely. The cliff slopes much more smoothly on this side, like the curve of a bowl. Virgil backs up and then leaps over the side, pulling water out of the waterskin hanging at his side with his hand. He bends it and freezes it beneath him, creating a flat board that he can surf down the hill on. 

Virgil makes it to the bottom of the hill in record time, leaping off and bending his ice board back to regular water, which he quickly bends back into his waterskin. The temple hadn’t looked huge from the top of the cliff, but up close and in person it’s enormous. It’s clearly suffered from neglect; the door hangs ajar from the hinges, the gold is flaking off of the roof and the statues, some of which are missing arms and legs and noses and ears and even heads. Still, the temple is undeniably beautiful. 

A pitiful whimper sounds from the temple, and Virgil exhales softly. “I’m coming,” he says softly. “I’m coming.” 

The temple is dark inside, but Virgil can see rows of torches on the walls. He assumes they’re meant to be lit with fire bending, probably meant to be eternally burning, but he’ll have to make do. He carries flints with him in his shoulder bag, and he quickly pulls a torch off the wall and lights it. As he progresses slowly through the temple, he lights the other torches, and they cast a warm, ambient glow over the whole room. There are pictures decorating the entire length of the hallway, telling stories of the Fire Nation. They tell how the dragons taught the people of the Fire Nation to bend, to harness the warmth and strength of fire. 

Looking at these pictures, Virgil can’t fear fire bending. It looks peaceful; there’s strength and power there, but there’s also love and light and warmth. 

The hallway narrows and narrows and narrows, and then it widens abruptly into a large central chamber. This is the most intricately decorated room Virgil has ever seen - the walls, the roof, the floor, the pillars, _everything_ is absolutely covered in decoration, but he can’t focus on any of it.

All he can focus on is the dragon in the middle of the room. 

It’s _enormous_ , a long, serpentine body winding around the columns. It’s a brilliant red, scales flecked with gold, and a row of orange gold-tipped spines running down its back. Its wings are spread out over the floor, and its head has golden horns and spines and whiskers. The dragon lets out another pitiful cry, and as Virgil inches closer he sees it - a massive wound in the dragon’s side. 

It looks like an old wound, one that hasn’t healed properly. Even from afar, Virgil can tell that it might be infected, and the dragon’s breathing is heavy and labored. He creeps closer, and the dragon’s head snaps around to stare at him. Its eyes are a bright, unnatural blue, with slitted golden pupils, and when it stares at him it feels like it’s staring directly into his soul.

**_WHY HAVE YOU COME, CHILD?_** Virgil nearly drops the torch to cower and cover his ears. The voice is only in his head, and the dragon’s mouth does not move to speak, but he can feel it resonate against his sternum. **_HAVE YOU COME TO KILL ME, FINALLY?_ **

“N - no,” Virgil manages, voice catching in his throat. “I heard you crying out.”

**_I AM IN PAIN. I HAVE BEEN IN PAIN FOR QUITE SOME TIME. I FEAR I AM NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD._ **

“I - I might be able to help you,” Virgil says. 

**_WILL YOU KILL ME, CHILD? PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY?_ **

“No,” Virgil says. “I - _no_! I will not kill you! I want to try and heal you.” 

**_YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN DO THIS, CHILD?_ **

“I’ve never tried to heal a creature this big or a wound this serious,” Virgil admits honestly. “But I’m going to try. I won’t just let you suffer without trying.” 

**_THAT IS ADMIRABLE._ **

“Can I come a little closer?” Virgil asks. The dragon rests its large head on its forepaws.

**_YOU MAY._ **

Virgil slowly climbs over the coils of the dragon’s body, settling himself down cross-legged next to the massive wound on the dragon’s side. It looks like an old burn wound, and the dragon’s flank rises and falls shallowly as it breathes. He gently lays a hand next to the dragon’s wound. 

“Oh . . . what happened?” 

**_IT WAS DRAGONS WHO TAUGHT THE FIRE NATION TO BEND. WE GAVE THEM THE GIFT OF FIRE. THE FIRE LORD TURNED IT ON US. HE SLEW ALL THE DRAGONS THAT I KNEW. I AM THE ONLY ONE LEFT. I AM THE LAST OF MY KIND._ **

Virgil presses his free hand over his mouth. “That’s . . . that’s so horrible . . .”

**_I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS HAD THEIR LIFE DESTROYED, I SENSE._ **

Virgil winces. “My . . . my dad. They killed him because they thought he was the last water bender of our tribe. He died lying to protect me.” 

**_I AM SORRY, CHILD. THAT IS A FATE NO ONE SHOULD SUFFER._ **

Virgil exhales shakily. “No one should suffer your fate, either. I will do my best to heal you.” He pops the cap off of his waterskin and bends the water around his hands like a protective covering. The water begins to glow as he places his hands just above the dragon’s wound, letting his water bending give him information. What it tells him isn’t good; the wound is old, and it’s infected as he’d thought, and he suspects that the dragon has some form of blood poisoning. 

He’s never tried to heal something this big, or this serious. But he promised he would try, and try he will. He’s lucky that the full moon was the other night; that’s when water benders are at the height of their power. With luck, he’ll be strong enough for this task.

**_IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, CHILD, DO NOT PUSH YOURSELF. I HAVE SURVIVED THIS LONG. I WILL ENDURE._ **

“No,” Virgil says, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. “I’m not giving up. I have to try.” He presses his hands against the wound, and the water begins to glow even brighter. He focuses on the flow of energy moving throughout the dragon’s massive body, pulling out the infection surrounding the wound and trying to push healing energy into the dragon in its place. 

The water quickly becomes murky and infected as he heals. Virgil takes breaks to dispose of the tainted water and fetch some more clean water from the stream outside. The more he works, the shakier he gets, and he’s worried that he won’t have the energy to finish healing the dragon. 

**_DO NOT HURT YOURSELF, LITTLE ONE_** , the dragon rumbles. **_ALREADY I FEEL MYSELF IMPROVING. YOUR KINDNESS HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR ME._ **

“I - I can keep goin’,” Virgil slurs. “Almost done . . . one more should do it . . .”

He presses his hands against the wound one last time. It’s shrunk down considerably, all the infection pulled out and purified and disposed of. He’s working on the final part of the healing now, re-growing the torn and burnt muscle and skin and making sure the dragon’s scales grow in properly. 

Finally, he pulls his hands away, and the wound on the dragon’s side is no more. It stands up, shaking itself out; all of the scales rattle as they realign, and the dragon roars. **_THANK YOU, LITTLE ONE. YOU HAVE HELPED ME IMMENSELY_**. The dragon begins to glow bright blue, and Virgil’s exhausted brain manages to connect the dots: the dragon is a spirit. He’s just healed a spirit. 

**_YOU HAVE EARNED MY GRATITUDE THIS DAY,_ ** the dragon spirit tells him. **_REST NOW, LITTLE ONE. KNOW THAT THE SPIRITS ARE WITH YOU, AND ONE DAY YOUR GOOD DEED WILL COME BACK TO YOU TENFOLD._ **

Virgil’s vision blacks out and blurs around the edges. The last thing he sees as he falls backwards is the dragon spirit’s head coming forward to catch his body.

* * *

“- isn’t he waking up?!”

“What if he’s dead?” 

“He is not dead, I can hear his heartbeat. It is strong and steady. He will survive.” 

“But what if he doesn’t wake up?!” 

“Geez, Roman,” Virgil groans, lifting a hand to his head. “I never knew you cared.”

“ _Virgil!_ ” He winces at the shout. “Oh, shit, sorry -” A hand presses against his forehead, warm, and when Virgil opens his eyes (only halfway), Roman is leaning over him, eyes bright with worry. 

“What . . . happened?” 

“You were taking forever to come back from firewood, so we went looking for you! We thought you had been ambushed and captured!” Patton explains, twisting his hands with worry. “We found you at the foot of a cliff, there was a rock next to you! We think there was some kind of rock fall that caught you unaware, you must have hit your head! We don’t know how long you were unconscious!” 

“How long has it been?” 

“We found you a few hours ago,” Thomas says. “It’s evening now.” Virgil slowly sits up, wincing when his head pounds. Logan is sitting beside him, and he offers him a waterskin. Virgil takes it and quickly gulps down a few chilly swallows.

“I thought you were dead,” he says softly. “I could feel your heartbeat, I could hear you breathing, I knew you weren’t, but when we found you, I - I was terrified, and I . . . I thought you were - I -” 

Virgil gently touches Logan’s shoulder. It’s easy to forget that he’s only twelve and a half, with the mature aura he generally projects, but sometimes it’s painfully obvious that he’s just a child, thrust into a war against his will. Logan will lose what’s left of his childhood to this conflict, and Virgil will be damned if he forces Logan to grow up any faster than he already is. 

“I’m sorry, Logan,” he says. Logan turns his face towards Virgil, and his eyes are wet. He hasn’t let any tears fall, but his hand is shaking when he places it over Virgil’s. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I - I didn’t mean to make you think you’d lost someone else. I’m okay.” 

Logan is silent for a moment. “You’re not lying,” he whispers. “I’m still mad at you, though.” 

“That’s fine,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.” 

“Smart answer,” Logan says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. He sniffles once, loudly, wiping at his eyes. “You saw nothing. I was not crying.” 

“Of course not,” Virgil teases, gently ruffling Logan’s hair. He squawks loudly, but he makes no attempt to dodge Virgil’s hands. Virgil assumes he’s been forgiven.

* * *

The stars seem a little brighter that night. Virgil is on his back, hands beneath his head, staring up at the stars, when Roman flops down next to him. “What’cha doin’?” 

“Looking at the constellations,” Virgil tells him. “They’re nothing like the ones back home, so I’m making up my own.” 

“Do you wanna hear about ours?” Roman offers. He seems uncharacteristically shy, but Virgil just smiles at him. 

“Sure, Ro. I’d love to hear about Fire Nation constellations.” Suddenly, the stars alight in Roman’s eyes. He lays next to Virgil and starts to trace lines between the stars, telling stories about the pictures he’s creating. At some point, the rest of their group shows up and settles in around them. Thomas lays down next to Virgil, Logan slots up against his brother’s side, and Patton stretches out beside Roman. 

It’s good. It’s . . . peaceful.

* * *

The first time Thomas produces a flame on purpose, they all stop and stare. 

Roman has arranged the kindling around the firepit, but he’s refusing to light it. “You’re going to light the fire,” he tells Thomas. The Avatar shakes his head. 

“Ro, I’ve never made more than plumes of smoke and the occasional spark. I can’t light it.” 

“You’re going to have to,” Roman says, “because I won’t. We can’t cook dinner without the fire, so you’re gonna have to figure something out and fast. The sun’s setting.” Thomas huffs. 

“Roman, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“You’re the Avatar. The fire is in your veins the way it’s in mine. You just have to convince it to come out.” Roman crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow impassively at Thomas. Even though he’s only met the man in passing, Virgil is reminded of Roman’s Uncle Emile. 

Thomas drops into a fire bending stance and thrusts his hand forward. A puff of dark smoke appears, but no fire. He growls in frustration and throws his hand forward again, and again, then his foot, then another hand. He’s copying Roman’s bending stances, but no fire appears. 

“You have to try harder than that.” 

“I’m trying the hardest I can!” 

“If that was true, you would have lit the fire five minutes ago.” Roman’s eyes are hard as steel. “Do better.” 

“How?!” Thomas pants, wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

“Just do it.” 

Thomas screams and thrusts his hand forward in frustration. A massive jet of fire roars forward, licking up the sides of the pit and engulfing all of the kindling. Within seconds, it’s reduced to ash. Before anyone else can react, Patton bends a vortex around the fire and siphons out all the air, extinguishing the fire. Thomas stares at the pit in shock, breathing heavily. 

“You did a good job,” Roman says, and his eyes are warm again. 

“What was that?!” 

“Fire benders often have to be pushed to a strong emotional extreme to create their first flame. Once you do it, though, it gets easier. We’ll work on being able to call your fire more reliably, and then we’ll work on tempering your control.” Roman touches Thomas’s shoulder and smiles. “I’m proud of you, Thomas.” 

Thomas smiles. Roman sweeps fresh kindling into the firepit. “Again.” 

Virgil backs up several feet.

* * *

It takes about ten days for Thomas to be able to call his fire reliably. Roman needles him through the first few attempts, poking and prodding until Thomas screams in frustration and incinerates whatever’s closest to him. Eventually, however, he gains the ability to bend flames without fifteen minutes of Roman’s prompting. 

“You did well,” Roman tells him. “Now, we work on training that fire. Producing it is one thing, but controlling it is another. For that, we go inland.” 

“What? Why?” 

“There’s a Fire Nation temple on this island,” Roman says. “It’s not, like, strictly necessary to go there, but I always found that being connected to the tradition of fire benders before me helped sharpen my focus.” 

“Sounds cool,” Thomas says. Virgil thinks back to the temple where he’d found and healed the dragon. He’s glad they won’t be walking in on that fiasco. “Are we the only ones going?” 

“I want to go!” Patton says eagerly. “I’ve never seen a Fire Nation temple before!” 

“I would also like to visit an example of Fire Nation architecture,” Logan offers. “I am sure it will be fascinating.” 

They turn to face Virgil. “Vee? You coming?” Virgil’s already seen the Fire Nation temple, but he’s not too proud to admit that it was beautiful. He wonders if there are other secrets that the temple holds, secrets that will only reveal themselves in the presence of a fire bender. 

Plus, he’s not exactly keen on everyone else going off on an adventure without him. 

“Yeah, of course I am.” Roman grins.

* * *

The cliff is much easier to scale the second time around. Before any of them can attempt to problem solve, Logan steps forward. Within a minute, he’s earth bended a set of stairs leading up the gleaming cliffside. “Will these suffice?” 

“Nicely done, Rocky!” Roman says, ruffling Logan’s hair. Logan hides his pleased smile, but Virgil catches a glimpse as he heads up the stairs. 

The temple is just as beautiful the second time around. Logan and Thomas bend a chute in the cliff, allowing them all to slide down to the entrance of the temple. “It’s beautiful,” Roman breathes. “It’s been neglected . . . forgotten about . . . but it’s still beautiful.” He reaches out towards the front door, carefully places his hand on the intricate wooden panelling. “There was one of these in the palace, but it wasn’t so intricately decorated. My father didn’t believe in taking care of temples like this, in honoring tradition. He only believes in power.” His voice is shaking. 

“We know not all fire benders are like that,” Virgil says softly. “We know you’re different.” 

Roman takes a deep breath. “Let’s go inside.” 

Once they step inside, Patton frowns. “It’s pitch black in here!” 

“Oh, no,” Logan deadpans. “How terrible, to not be able to see anything. How frightening.” Patton winces guiltily before Logan snorts and socks him in the arm. “Kidding. I do not take offense.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Roman says. Virgil can barely see his silhouette in the dark, but then a flame arcs through the air, following the path of Roman’s foot as he bends. The flame dances along the rows of torches, illuminating the hallway. “Shall we?” 

Roman trails his fingertips over the murals carved into the walls as they walk. He’s vibrating like a little kid, but there’s something solemn and reverent in the way he touches things. “These murals tell the history of my people,” he whispers. He doesn’t need to, but Virgil feels the atmosphere of the temple the way he’s sure Roman does. It feels like a place for whispering. “They tell how the dragons taught us to fire bend. I wish I could see one . . .”

Virgil thinks of the last time he was here, and prays that they don’t see another dragon. 

When they enter the central chamber, it is empty and darkened. Roman steps into the center, humming softly to himself, before glancing upward. “I think I can open it . . .”

“Open what?” 

“All Fire Nation temples have a hatch in the ceiling that opens to let the sunlight in. That’s the source of our bending powers, is the spirit of the sun. There’s an intricate set of bending steps you have to do to open the hatch, it’s considered sacred. Fire Sages are usually the only ones who can do it, but they teach it to royalty as well.” Roman frowns. 

“What is it?” 

“Typically, you need two fire benders to open the hatch . . .” 

“I can help,” Thomas offers. 

“No, you’re not skilled enough outside of the Avatar state to do it. I can try and do it on my own, but I’m not super optimistic.” 

“You have to try!” Patton cheers. Someone snorts derisively from the darkness of the temple. Roman narrows his eyes, shifting to an attack stance. Virgil lets a knife drop into his hand; Patton and Logan shift into bending stances; Logan steps in front of Thomas, who settles into an earth bending stance of his own. 

Something crackles as white lines begin to trace in the dark. Roman’s face shifts from caution to shock. “Get down!” he shouts, moments before a lightning bolt sails over his head and slams into the wall. It fizzles out harmlessly against the stone, and Roman shifts back to a bending stance. “Show yourself!” Virgil’s blood runs cold. _Another fire bender. They’ve been found._

Another lightning bolt shoots out of the darkness, heading towards Roman. He doesn’t move, and Virgil is about to shove him out of the way when the lightning bolt strikes the stone right in front of Roman. Virgil frowns; Roman said lightning bending was rare, something only skilled fire benders could do. Whoever’s bending in the dark has missed them, not once but twice. Either they’re a terrible shot, or . . . 

They’re missing on purpose. 

Roman takes a step towards the darkness, and then another. “Show yourself,” he repeats, voice just a little softer. 

“Bad idea,” Virgil warns, voice low. Something shifts in the darkness, snarling, and then a dark blur throws itself onto Roman. It tackles him to the ground, knocking him flat on his back. Roman lets out a winded noise as he rolls with his attacker, trying to pin them down. Virgil slips a throwing knife into his hand, pinning it between his index and middle fingers, but he can’t get a clear shot on Roman’s attacker to throw it. 

Finally, they stop moving. Roman is on his back, his attacker perched proudly on his stomach. Virgil is ready to attack, but freezes when he sees that Roman isn’t staring up at his attacker with fear or anger or concern. His face is soft, and open, and looks almost . . . _hopeful_. Virgil’s eyes slide to Roman’s attacker, and he does a double take. 

Roman is being pinned to the ground by . . . _himself_?

A few more seconds clears his vision; the boy pinning Roman looks very similar to his friend, but there are differences. He has a white streak of hair in his bangs, the wispy beginnings of a mustache, a gap between his front teeth. There’s something slightly unhinged glinting in his eyes as he grins. 

“Remus?” Roman breathes. The name rings a bell. _Remus. Roman’s twin brother. The one who told them about this island._

“The one and only!” Remus crows. He hops up off of Roman, eyes settling on Virgil and the others. He bows exaggeratedly, crossing one foot behind the other, grinning up at them with something just shy of mania. Roman rolls to his feet and yanks Remus into a hug. 

“ _Rem!_ ” Roman’s fist grips Remus’s shirt so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, and Remus holds his brother just as tightly. “You’re okay! After I left, I was so worried Father would do something to you, are you - are you okay?!” 

“I’m okay,” Remus says softly. “I’m okay, Ro, and Deedee is too. He’s safe.” 

“Is he here too?!” Roman gasps hopefully. Remus shakes his head. 

“He’s not strong enough to leave the ship’s quarters. Father did a number on him. But he’s alive, and he misses you. A lot.”

“I miss him too,” Roman says, eyes watering. He pulls back from the hug just enough to study Remus’s face. “Your hair - what happened?” 

“Lightning mishap.” 

“You can bend _lightning_ now?! You absolute fucker!” Roman laughs, dragging Remus back into his arms. “I can’t believe you figured it out first!” Remus grins, hugging his twin. “How did you get here? We flew in, but -”

“I took a rowboat.” 

“Are you _crazy?!_ You came in by sea? You could have been killed!” 

“I know! It would have been so exciting!” Remus chirps, bouncing and flapping his hands. “But I knew you were gonna be here, and I missed you!” 

“That was a stupid risk!” 

“Saving the Avatar and his baby brother from Father’s wrath was a stupid risk, too. Must run in the family.” 

Roman punches his brother in the chest. Remus laughs, rolling with the blow and kicking Roman’s feet out from under him. Roman lands flat on his back, laughing breathlessly. Virgil lets his knife slide back into its sheath. Remus still sets him on edge, but Roman looks more at ease than Virgil’s ever seen him (with the possible exception of when his Uncle Emile tumbled out of those bushes). 

It’s nice to see him relax.

* * *

Later, after Remus and Roman have performed and intricate series of dance-like fire bending steps and opened the roof hatch, letting the sun come pouring in, they all sit together. Remus and Roman are pressed close together, literally joined at the hip. 

“I can’t stay much longer,” Remus says regretfully. “I’m going to have to head out today if I’m to make it back to the warship before the sea becomes unnavigable.” 

“Why risk it at all?” Roman asks. 

“We’re checking all the outlying Fire Nation islands for you. Your flying sky beast was spotted by some locals on the shore. I volunteered because I knew it was the most dangerous island to look for. The crew thinks it was a noble gesture, they don’t suspect me.” 

“But if they do,” Roman says, “what will they do to you?”

Remus grins, sharp and unhinged. “I can do worse back to them, tenfold. Trust me. And they won’t find anything out.” 

“Why come yourself?” Virgil asks. “Why not send your Uncle?” 

Remus’s grin fades. “I missed Ro. We’ve never been apart this long, it’s . . . I hate it. It’s like someone ripped my arm and leg out and then beat me over the head with it.” 

“I hate it too,” Roman says. He grips Remus’s hand tightly. “I’m so sorry that I left you.” 

“Hey, if Dee and I coulda escaped with you, we would have,” Remus shrugs. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Someone has to take care of him until you get back. And Dee’s cool, I don’t mind.” Remus turns to regard Thomas, tilting his head to the side. “So how good of an Avatar are you?” 

“I’ve mastered earth bending,” Thomas says. “Roman is teaching me to master fire. Air is next, then water.” Remus winces. “What?” 

“You might wanna hurry that time table up a little. There aren’t any water benders left at the South Pole.” 

“I know,” Virgil says coolly. “I’m from the South Pole.” 

“Father is planning something,” Remus says, gripping Roman’s hand back. “He keeps meeting with dignitaries from the Air Nomads, and I’m not sure why. He told me before I left that he was trying to broker peace, but -”

“But Father has never brokered a peace in his entire life,” Roman finishes. “That’s suspicious.” 

“There’s more. I think once he finishes with whatever he’s doing with the Air Nomads, he’s planning an assault on the Northern Water Tribe.” 

“How is he going to do that?” 

“With the Air Nomads’ help?” 

“My people would never aid in something like that,” Patton spits. Remus shrugs. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, you don’t know what Father is capable of the way that Roman and I do. He’s capable of atrocities beyond your comprehension. He took Mother away from us. He took Roman away from me. He’s - he’s taking everyone I’ve ever loved.” 

“He won’t take me,” Roman promises. “We might not physically be with each other, but as soon as the war is over I’ll come home.” 

“You’ll have to kill Father for that to happen,” Remus says. “You’ll have to win the war.” 

“We will.” Roman’s eyes are blazing, and Remus stares into them for a moment before nodding. 

“I believe you.” 

“Good.” Remus stands up. “Don’t accompany me to the shoreline. The ship’s crew are watching through the onboard telescope, and if they see you they’ll storm the island. Wait until after sundown, we’ll be long gone by then. If plans change, I’ll send Dragon.”

“You better be taking care of him. And Dolos.” 

“Please, Roro. I’m not taking care of anyone. Uncle Emile is keeping us all alive.” Roman heaves an exaggerated sigh. 

“I don’t know why I expected better.” He stands up as well, gripping Remus’s shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll be careful?” 

“I’m never careful, brother,” Remus laughs. They pull into another tight hug before Remus is disappearing down the hallway like a shadow. Roman watches him go with a wistful, hungry expression on his face before turning around to stare at Thomas with renewed fire. 

“You heard my brother. We have a lot of work to do.” 


	3. book three: air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mild angst, cartoon violence, manipulation/betrayal, detailed fight scene including minor character death, blood, injury, weapons, sedatives, and manipulation, swearing, nightmare mention, references to past child abuse, mention of potential genocide
> 
> to skip the fight scene, skip the section that starts “There’s no need to be difficult, Roman.” 

“I’m hardly a _master_ of air bending,” Patton says nervously, fidgeting with his hands. 

“You’re the only air bender that we know,” Thomas says, pressing his hands together and bowing his head. “ _Please_ , Pat, you have to teach me! Who else will do it?” 

“There are plenty of air benders in the temples where we live, Thomas, much more skilled than myself. I still think you’d be better off going there and seeking out one of the monks to train you.” Patton fidgets nervously with his hands. “I’m . . . not exactly a master airbender. I’m just a kid.” 

“We’re all just kids,” Thomas argues. “None of us chose to be thrown into this war, but we’re here now. Please, Patton. The sooner I learn air bending, the closer I’ll be to ending this war.” 

“And what happens when you do end the war?” Virgil asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“We’re all from different nations, different histories, different cultures. We never would have met without this war. What will happen when it ends? Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than ready for peace, but are we just . . . never going to see each other again?” 

“That’s stupid,” Roman says. “I’m not going to just stop being friends with you all once the war’s over. If anything, with my bitchass dad dead -”

“Language.”

“- I won’t have to worry about getting murdered for having friends. You’re all my friends, and I fully expect all of you to be at my wedding ceremony when I marry Dolos.” 

“Really?” Logan asks softly. “You would want us to come to your wedding?” 

“Of course I would,” Roman says. He reaches out and gently touches Logan’s shoulder. Logan smiles, and Virgil feels something tight in his chest begin to uncoil. “Somebody has to walk me down the aisle, after all.” 

“I volunteer as tribute!” Patton chirps eagerly. “And - and Thomas, I’m not an air bending teacher, by any stretch of the imagination, but if you’re willing to put up with me, I can try and teach you what I know.”

* * *

“How many times have they done this now?” Roman asks. 

“Counting this? Sevent - nope, eighteen,” Virgil says. Thomas tries to copy what Patton is showing him, and he falls flat on his face. “I think the problem is that earth and air are on opposite ends of the bending spectrum, so their movements are the antithesis of each other. Earth bending is all solid movements and grounded footing, and air bending is about being light and detached.” 

“So what are you saying? Thomas won’t be able to learn how to do it?”

“No, he’ll be able to learn. Every Avatar before him has mastered all four elements, there’s no reason that he can’t do it too. It’s just gonna be particularly difficult to do this stage.” 

Thomas falls for the nineteenth time, screams in frustration, and punches a massive fireball into the sky. “Impressive size, poor technique!” Roman calls. 

“I’m not working on fire bending right now, criticism is unwarranted!” 

“This isn’t going to work, is it,” Logan says dryly. 

“Have some confidence in your brother,” Virgil says. “But no, I don’t think it is. We might need to try a different approach.” 

“Such as what? Patton’s the only air bender that we’ve got.” 

“Technically, we have Remy, too.” 

“What in the fresh hell are you smoking?” Roman says. Virgil ignores him, reaching out to gently pat Remy’s nose. The flying bison huffs out a puff of warm air that nearly knocks Roman over and gently pushes his nose into Virgil’s hand. 

“Fire benders learned to bend from the dragons, earth benders learned to bend from the badger moles, water benders learned to bend from the moon, and air benders learned to bend from the flying bison. I’m not saying that Remy has the temperament to be a bending master, mind you, I’m just saying that he could be a teacher.” Remy makes a disgruntled noise and shuffles off to flop down and sleep a few yards away. 

“He might have better luck than Patton is currently having,” Logan says. “I am sure he is trying his best, but Thomas is not showing promising results.” 

“Yeah, but think about how long it took for him to first make a flame when I was training him,” Roman argues. 

“We no longer have that kind of time,” Logan says. “The reports from your brother are getting more dire every day. Your father is speeding up his plans of conquest, and we cannot let him harm any more innocent civilians. We must stop him in his tracks, and that may necessitate accelerating my brother’s training schedule.” 

Thomas hits the ground again. Virgil winces at the noise. “We should have a team meeting about this.”

* * *

The team meeting takes several days. 

This is mostly because people (namely Logan, Thomas, both of them, and occasionally Patton) get fed up and storm away to blow off steam without taking it out directly on other people. Virgil does his best to maintain a neutral voice-of-reason position, but no one in their group has ever been particularly inclined to neutrality. (Logan claims that he is, but he is also the most prone to losing his temper.) 

Eventually, they come to a collective consensus that while Patton is doing his best to teach Thomas the ways of air bending, it may not be enough for the time frame they’re working with. “I’m doing my best,” Patton says, staring firmly into the campfire, “and I know that Thomas is doing his best, too. But I don’t think our bests are moving fast enough, given the timeline of the Fire Nation’s attacks.”

“According to Remus, my father is moving up the attack schedules every day,” Roman comments. “The faster Thomas can master air bending, the better.” 

“I agree,” Thomas says. Logan makes a face, rocks trembling at his feet, but Thomas reaches out and squeezes his wrist. “Hey, Lo, stop it. It’s not a personal attack on me. I’m not mad, he’s _right_.” Logan huffs, but lets himself calm down. “We have to find someone qualified to teach air bending and hope that they can help me.” 

“We should see which Air Nomad temple we’re closest to,” Patton says. “I think that’s our best bet. The monks there spend their whole lives training acolytes to bend air, they’ll be able to help you.” 

“Are we sure that’s the safest option?” Roman counters. “Remus said that Air Nomad dignitaries were meeting with Father, and if that’s true then -”

“We’re pacifists,” Patton says stubbornly. “We only fight if absolutely necessary. We would never side with a tyrant who’s trying to take over the entire world.” The fire flares a little, and Patton winces and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t mean to insult your dad, Roman. I just -"

“It’s okay,” Roman says. He lets out a long, slow, controlled breath, and Virgil watches as the fire returns to its original size. “It’s okay, you - you’re right. You’re _right_ , Patton, you don’t have to apologize for that. My dad _is_ a tyrant and he _is_ an abusive asshole and he _is_ trying to take over the entire world. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“But he’s still your father,” Patton says. “It only makes sense that you would have an emotional attachment to him.” 

“I don’t _want_ to have an emotional attachment to him,” Roman pouts. “I barely want to have a genetic attachment to him! He’s a dumbass and he’s useless and - and I don’t _need_ him or his validation!” He pushes to his feet angrily and throws a fireball towards the surrounding trees. Patton swiftly bends a vortex around the fire to suction out its oxygen before it can cause any significant damage. 

“We know,” Logan says softly. “You are more than your father’s son, Roman. You have grown to be more than he could ever be.” Roman’s shoulder shake, chest heaving as he turns away. Virgil reaches out and touches his shoulder; Roman flinches, but when Virgil starts to pull his hand away, he whimpers and leans back towards the touch. 

“We know you’re not him,” Virgil says quietly. “I know you’re not him.” 

“He’s hurt all of you so much,” Roman whispers. “He’s the reason you lost your father, Virgil. He’s the reason Thomas and Logan’s village was razed to the ground, he’s the reason that Dolos had half of his face burnt off, he’s the reason my mother abandoned Remus and me and - and he did _so much bad shit_ and - and I have to _fix_ it, I have to -”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Thomas says. “I’m the Avatar, Roman, and it’s my job to restore balance to the world. I know that you have your own reasons for wanting to dethrone your father, but you are _not_ responsible for what he did.” He grips Roman’s hands and gives what Virgil can only describe as his best “I’m-the-Avatar-and-everything-is-okay-now” smile. 

Virgil has trouble pulling comfort from it, but Roman seems to. “Thanks, Thomas.” He squeezes Thomas’s hands back, and he smiles. Virgil is still uneasy about pretty much every aspect of their situation, but he can at least relax in the knowledge that their little group’s uneven edges have settled comfortably against each other again.

* * *

_You are in more danger than you realize._

Virgil lifts his head, and suddenly he’s not curled around the campfire sleeping with the rest of his friends. He stands in the middle of a vast expanse of black nothingness. Wisps of smoke curl around his ankles, creeping up towards his knees. He swats them away hurriedly, whirling around and watching a puff of water vapor appear where he’d just breathed out. 

“Who are you?! Where am I?!”

_You are safe, little water bender. I am a friend, one you have rescued before._

The mist stirs in front of him, forming a small dragon shape coiled in front of him. “You’re . . . the dragon I saved from the Fire Nation temple?”

_The very same. Your fire bender friend is right to be suspicious. The Air Nomads are acting strangely. There are disturbances in the Spirit World. Proceed with caution and make sure that you protect those close to you._

“Disturbances? Isn’t it Thomas’s job to balance the natural and spirit worlds as the Avatar? Should I tell him about it?” 

_This is not a disturbance he can heal, not yet. You must keep him safe until he matures enough to help us. Protect him, little water bender, and keep your eyes peeled. If the Avatar falls, the world is doomed._

The darkness surges up around Virgil, and he wakes up screaming.

* * *

“And you’re sure that you’re okay?” Patton asks, gently touching his shoulder. Virgil rubs his arms, shaking softly. “You were screaming so loudly . . . you were so scared . . .” 

“It was just a nightmare,” Virgil says. Patton wraps an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, hesitantly, as though he’s going to push it away. Normally he would, but Virgil is still shaken, and he leans into the soft touch. Patton makes a soft noise and pulls him closer. 

“I know it was,” Patton says. “But it’s okay. You’re awake now, and we’re here. It’ll be alright. We’ll be at the Western Air Temple in a couple days, and then we’ll be totally safe.” 

Virgil doesn’t know how to tell him that they won’t be safe, that they’d be safer in the Fire Nation’s outlying villages than in the temple, because he’s seen the way Patton gets more excited the closer they get. So he stays silent, pressing close to his friend.

* * *

Remy swishes his tail irritably as they glide closer to the mountains. “Is he okay?” Virgil asks. “He seems kinda . . . upset.” 

“He doesn’t like flying close to the mountains,” Patton says. “The winds are a lot stronger, and it takes more effort for him to course correct. He has to do it a lot more frequently, too.” 

Remy makes an exasperated huffing noise and veers sharply to the left. “It’s so pretty up here,” Roman wonders, leaning over the side of the saddle. “Isn’t it beautiful, Logan?” 

“Beautiful,” Logan deadpans. “There are so many different shades of black to see up here.” 

Roman winces, but Logan is smirking, so Virgil pats his shoulder reassuringly and turns his gaze to the mountains. There’s a large, elaborate structure built into the crevasses of the largest mountain, spires and peaks and buildings, some of which blend so seamlessly into the mountain they’re difficult to see. If he squints, he can just barely make out tiny figures flitting around the mountain. 

Remy lands at the base, rather than taking them all the way up to the top. “The head monks take turns bending the air currents around the Temple itself, so we can’t approach unannounced. We’re just gonna have to hike up there.” 

“Why would we hike when Thomas and I can bend us up the mountain?” Logan says. He hops off of Remy’s saddle and wiggles his toes, happy to be back on the ground. “It will not take long at all.” 

“But I don’t just want to leave Remy alone down here . . .” 

Logan squares his shoulders and leans into an earthbending stance. Within five minutes, he’s created a cave in the side of the mountain for Remy to settle into. “I promise we’ll come back for you,” Patton says, pressing his forehead against Remy’s nose. The bison huffs, but licks Patton back anyway. 

“I don’t like this,” Virgil says. “What if something goes wrong? We’ll be all the way up there, with no quick escape, I . . .”

“Are you expecting something to go wrong?” Patton asks softly. He looks upset, Virgil realizes, like he was expecting pushback. 

“Of course not, Pat,” Virgil says, reassuring. “I didn’t mean to say that I don’t trust your people. That’s not what I’m tryin’a say at all. I’m always nervous that something will go wrong. Anxiety, remember? It’s kind of my job to worry about stuff like this.” 

“I know,” Patton sighs, reaching over and patting at Virgil’s shoulder. “I appreciate you, Vee. But you know you don’t _have_ to be worried, right? These are my people. They may not be the temple I grew up in, but they’re still my people. They won’t hurt us.” 

Virgil smiles, and wishes he believed Patton.

* * *

Even with a master earth bender (not that he’d ever call Logan one to his face) and the Avatar himself, it takes them a good while to get up the mountain. Virgil gets more and more anxious the farther up the mountain they get, and Roman looks pretty antsy himself. He’d ditched his more traditional Fire Nation clothing for some of Thomas’s spares and he’d let Virgil style his hair to obscure his face. 

“How much farther?” he asks. Patton is bouncing eagerly on the tips of his toes. 

“Not long now!” 

When they finally crest over a ridge and into the temple, they’re greeted by a group of school-age children. They all stare at the strangers with expressions ranging from confusion to wariness to outright terror, and then Patton steps forward. He says something in a language Virgil doesn’t speak, but it must be some kind of Air Nomad greeting because all of the children parrot back in unison. 

Patton pushes his bangs off his face, showing them the arrow tattooed on his forehead. “My friends and I have come to seek sanctuary,” he says. “We do not mean to cause alarm.” 

“What temple are you from?” one of the children asks. The others cluster behind her. 

“I am from the Eastern Air Temple,” Patton says. “My friends are not air benders, but we come seeking sanctuary.” 

“You have to come with us,” she says. “You have to speak to the Head Monk about that.” 

“Of course,” Patton says. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way?” 

One of the children tugs on Patton’s flowy skirt. “Why do you have hair, mister? Is that a Eastern Air Temple thing?” 

“It’s not an Eastern Air Temple thing, dummy,” the leader says. “All Air Nomads shave their heads. I dunno why he’s weird.” Patton doesn’t flinch at the insinuation, but it’s a very close thing. 

“It’s because I have not been in a temple for quite a while, little one,” Patton says instead. “We’ve been traveling for many months, and I haven’t been able to take care of all this.” 

“Well, we can cut all your hair off here, mister,” the leader says. “C’mon, the Head Monk is gonna be interested to see you.” 

Virgil looks at Roman, who looks exactly as nervous as Virgil feels, and swallows. Logan looks normal, but he’s also pressing closer to Thomas than he normally does (probably unintentionally). 

Yeah. Virgil has a bad feeling about this.

* * *

The children take them to a large hallway. A single woman sits inside, eyes closed, meditating. Virgil is about to suggest that they come back later, so as not to bother her, but she speaks without opening her eyes. “Hiroshi. Kanna. What are you doing here?” 

The girl, apparently named Kanna, recites a greeting and performs a strange bow. The boy, who must be Hiroshi, copies her quickly; the rest of the children had scattered long before they reached this hall. “Visitors, Head Monk. We brought them to you.” 

The woman opens her eyes, standing up and sweeping her robes around her. “I see. Thank you. You are now dismissed.” 

“Yes, Head Monk,” the children say, bowing again before scuttling out of the hall. The woman approaches them slowly, letting the anxiety in Virgil’s stomach rise to a rolling boil. 

“I am Kya, Head Monk of the Eastern Air Temple. We welcome you, visitors, seekers of sanctuary.” Her words are kind, but her voice disturbs Virgil. It’s _too_ calm, too devoid of emotion. “What brings you here today?” 

Patton reveals his tattoo to her as well before performing the same strange bow Kanna and Hiroshi had. “I am Patton, of the Western Air Temple. These are my friends, they -” 

Thomas steps forward, brown eyes gleaming slightly. “Head Monk Kya, my name is Thomas, and I am -”

“The Avatar,” she breathes. 

“I’ve been trying to teach him air bending,” Patton says, “but -”

“You could not. I am unsurprised. You have clearly fallen out of practice.” There’s something strange in her eyes, and Patton seems to wilt away from her. “Allowing your hair to grow over your tattoos? Shameful. It is any wonder you can connect with the element which breathes life into your body. I am disappointed.” Her voice is like frost, and Patton grows smaller with every piercing word. 

“Hey, that’s not fair to Patton,” Virgil says, stepping in front of him. “We’ve undergone a lot of challenging circumstances, it’s not like shaving was a priority compared to staying alive.” 

Kya turns her gaze on him, but Virgil doesn’t falter. He’s faced winters colder than her gaze. 

“Who are you to tell an air bender what is proper?” she says. “Do you even bend?” 

“I do not bend,” Virgil grits. 

“Then you have no place speaking here.” Kya turns back to the Avatar. “I am surprised that one of your station would travel with those who are not in touch with the elements, but I suppose I cannot make your choices for you. If you wish to spend the night here, you may, and we will make arrangements for your training to begin in the morning.” 

Virgil glances around the hall while Thomas and Kya speak, frowning when he catches sight of someone lurking behind a pillar. “Who’s that?” he says loudly. Kya frowns at him, but she turns to look at the figure. 

“No one of your concern,” she says. “You are dismissed. Leave my presence.” 

Thomas turns around and walks out. Roman presses close to Patton, who’s clearly trying very hard not to cry, and Logan turns his face in Kya’s direction. If he could see with his eyes, Virgil would suspect he was glaring at her. 

As they reach the doors, Virgil lifts one hand up deceptively, as though he’s going to stretch or scratch his face. The knife hidden in his sleeve gleams against his inner wrist as he angles it to spy on what’s going on behind him.

The figure steps out from behind the pillar, dressed in the blazing crimson colors of the Fire Nation, and begins to speak in a low voice to Kya. She nods, face still impassive and stony. Virgil feels his heart drop straight through his stomach and tumble right off the mountain.

* * *

“Are you sure?” Roman asks, for the sixth time in as many minutes. 

“ _I know what I saw!_ ” Virgil snaps. “I travel with a _Fire Nation prince_ , Roman, do you think I don’t know what fucking Fire Nation clothes look like?” 

“Kya . . . she sold us out?” Patton says. He’s curled into a ball on one of the beds in the little tower room they’ve been allowed to inhabit. “I - I don’t -” 

“Remus said that Father was trying to broker some kind of peace with the Air Nomads,” Roman says, “and this temple is closest to Fire Nation territory. What if . . . what if he wasn’t looking for peace at all?” 

“You think he’s colluding with the Air Nomads?” 

“We have no proof of that,” Logan says, running his hands along the stone wall. “I’ll tell you this, though. They locked the door behind us, and there’s two guards at the bottom of the stairs.”

“But we don’t _have_ guards! We’re pacifists!” 

“They do not read like Air Nomads to me,” Logan says. “They appear to be Fire Nation, judged on their stances and breathing patterns.” 

Before anyone can say anything further, Thomas makes an aggressive “shhhhh!” and beckons them over to the window. The moon, newly full, is only a few days into its waning gibbous phase, and the courtyard below them is illuminated enough to see Kya and the Fire Nation man Virgil had seen earlier. 

“Can you bend their words to us?” Thomas mouths at Patton. Even though he looks miserable, Patton nods, stepping forward lightly. Kya opens her mouth, and Patton begins to bend. 

“Are you sure this is what the Fire Lord requires?” Kya says. “We do not wish to participate in this war, Ruon-Jian. We would ask that he leave us be, in peace.” 

“The Fire Lord wishes nothing more than to accommodate the wishes of his most trusted neighbors and trading partners,” Ruon-Jian says. His voice is silky smooth and oily, and Virgil hates him immediately. “He of course understands your cultural traditions, and he had nothing but the utmost respect for you and your people. He admires that you share a goal with him, to protect your people and promote their interests and well-being.” 

“However?” Kya says, tiredly. 

“However,” Ruon-Jian says, “there have been rumors of a plot to overthrow our most gracious Fire Lord. Conspiracies against him, originating from his own people. The traitorous Prince Roman has, of course, been exiled, as has his betrothed, and the cursed Prince Remus has been sent on a fool’s errand with the disgraced General Emile, but you can never be too careful. You can understand why the Fire Lord might wish to keep tabs on those he suspects may be involved in such . . . foolishness.” 

“What do you want from me, Ruon-Jian? What will it take for you to leave us?” 

“The Fire Lord requires a sign, Head Monk Kya. A token of goodwill, as it were. In order to spare you and your people, he must know that you are not conspiring against him. You are currently harboring traitors to the crown, including the Fire Lord’s most reviled offspring and the Avatar. These are dangerous insurgents.” 

“I can handle them.”

“We do not doubt your capacities, but the Fire Lord would hate to foist the responsibility of punishing and detaining his fugitives onto our most honored neighbors.” 

“They are _children_ , Ruon-Jian. How much damage can they possibly do?” 

“Enough,” Ruon-Jian says, and his voice drops sharply. “Do not underestimate the Avatar. Do not underestimate the Fire Lord. The terms of the agreement stand before you, Head Monk Kya. Turn over the fugitives to me, and the Fire Lord will spare your temple. Otherwise, you will be engulfed in flames like your Southern brethren. We wouldn’t want that, would -”

Patton drops to the ground as though his legs have given out from under him, tears spilling down his face. “No,” he whispers. “No, they - he - they can’t have - they - the Southern Air Temple? They can’t have -”

“I am so sorry,” Roman says softly. “I know my father, and I know that guy down there. He’s the most ruthless of Father’s generals. He brags about things like that, he wouldn’t lie. He - he probably did, Patton.” 

Patton bites back a sob. “They . . .”

“Kya is going to sell us out in order to protect this temple,” Virgil says. “We can’t stay here and get captured, but we can’t let the Fire Nation attack this temple, either. We need a plan.” 

“What kind of plan?”

“We’re going to have to draw the Fire Nation away from the temple. If we escape, they won’t blame Kya, especially since there are Fire Nation soldiers guarding us, and they’ll have to give chase.”

“We’ll need a plan,” Logan says. Virgil grins, sharp and wolfish.

* * *

Predictably, things rapidly go downhill. 

They make it out of the Temple, but they’re pursued so tightly by Fire Nation soldiers that they can’t immediately circle back to Remy for fear of getting him captured. Instead, they divert into the forest, splitting up to avoid detection. 

Virgil ends up pulling Thomas along, gripping the Avatar’s wrist and tearing through the trees. He’s not accustomed to forests, but he’s travelled glaciers and snowdrifts before. Dangerous terrain is no stranger to him. Thomas stumbles along blindly, tripping every few steps, but Virgil just pushes forward. 

They stop dead in their tracks when they hear someone scream. It’s high and frantic, and it sounds an awful lot like - 

“ _Logan_ ,” Thomas says. His voice rumbles deep in his chest like an earthquake, and his eyes begin to glow blue. 

“No!” Virgil hisses, slapping Thomas to snap him out of the Avatar state. “Sorry, sorry - but you can’t do that, you can’t! You’ll draw attention, and you don’t have control of that state yet! You won’t be able to survive, you’ll get captured and we’ll never get you back!” 

“That’s my _brother_ ,” Thomas says plaintively. “That’s Logan, I - I have to protect him, I -”

“I know, Thomas. But we have to protect you, too. Come on, come on, I -” 

Virgil pulls Thomas after him, tearing through the forest. He stops a good distance away from his best estimate of Logan’s location and instead begins to pull Thomas after him into a tree. “You stay here.” 

“Wh -”

Virgil slams his hand over Thomas’s mouth, pointing to the ground. There’s a heavy thudding noise, like booted feet, and Fire Nation soldiers rush past the tree. Once he’s sure they’re gone, Virgil uncovers Thomas’s mouth. “Stay here. If they catch you, it’s all over. I’m gonna go after Lo and the others.” 

“And what if they capture you?” Thomas says. 

“They killed my father, Thomas. They took the only family I had left. It’s taken me this long to build another one, I’m not going to let them take it away again.” He hugs Thomas tightly, quickly, before he can change his mind. Thomas is surprised, but he squeezes back just as tightly. 

“Save them,” Thomas whispers, voice wavering. “ _Please_ , Virge.” 

“I will. I promise.”

* * *

“There’s no need to be difficult, Roman.” 

Roman stands, frozen, staring at a man he thought he left behind. Ruon-Jian has the clearing surrounded with his men; his tone is level and soothing, like he’s speaking to a frightened animal or a rambunctious child, like he’s presenting the only logical option. His face gives him away. 

One of his goons stands behind him, holding Logan tightly. His massive arm is like a vice grip around Logan’s fragile torso, and he has a controlled flame-knife pointed at Logan’s throat. He’s holding Logan up so that he can’t touch the earth, and they managed to tie him up somehow. Without his bending, he looks like a blind, scared kid, struggling weakly. Patton is on his back on the ground, a spear point pressed against his throat, arms and legs bound with ropes.

“Come with us, and I promise I will be lenient towards your friends. Why you choose to travel with children is beyond me, quite honestly. Then again, most of your choices are . . . beyond me.” 

“How did you find me?” Roman asks. He knows he should be fighting, knows he should be bending right now, but he can’t. The fire inside him has turned to ice as he stares at his captured friends. 

“Your brother is not known for his subtlety, Roman. It was no secret that he was sending messages on your hawk. All I had to do was track it, and the stupid bird led me right to you.” 

This is all Roman’s fault. He’s gotten his new friends captured, and he’s going to get his brother killed. “What did you do to Remus?” 

“Nothing, yet. For all his lunacy, he’s popular with the crew. But once I bring you and your friend the _Avatar_ back as proof of his treachery, I will have enough support to stage a mutiny. Your brother will die at sea in a tragic accident, and I will be the Fire Lord’s right-hand general.” 

“Never,” Roman croaks, but it’s a weak protest and Ruon-Jian knows it. 

“You are no threat to me, princeling. I will end you and your brother, and your father does not care enough to stop it.” Roman knows that it’s true. He knows he has to get them out of this situation before they all get killed, but there’s nothing he can do. He makes eye contact with Patton, trying to convey his apologies through his eyes alone. 

Patton shakes his head, mouths _It’s okay_ before the soldier holding a spear to his throat kicks him, and Roman hates himself just a little more. Ruon-Jian holds up a rope, and Roman starts to lift his hands to be tied up, and then -

_Creak_. 

There’s a rustling noise around them, too pronounced to be normal forest noises, and Ruon-Jian frowns. “Did you capture the Avatar and the Water Tribe brat yet?” 

Two soldiers stumble into the clearing, carrying a third between them. Both of the standing soldiers have a knife sticking out of them somewhere, and the sagging soldier looks barely conscious. 

“What happened?” Ruon-Jian snaps. 

“It - out of nowhere, the trees -” one of them pants. 

“Before we knew what hit us, there were knives, and - and they attacked Shoji with some kinda weird punches and he couldn’t bend anymore! He collapsed, we’re lucky we got outta there alive!”

“There’s no such thing!” Ruon-Jian protests. “You can’t take away someone’s bending!” 

There’s a sharp whistling noise, and one of the Fire Nation soldiers cries out in alarm. A slender blade sticks out of his arm, and his eyes roll up in his head as he collapses. “Poison?!” Ruon-Jian hisses. More sharp whistles, and four more Fire Nation soldiers fall. Ruon-Jian snarls and thrusts his fist forward, vaporizing the blade that hurtles towards him. 

“Show yourself!” he roars. “Do not hide in the trees like a coward!” 

“Who are you calling a coward?” a voice snarks back; familiar, but also lower than Roman is accustomed to. “After all, _I’m_ not the one who felt the need to attack _children_ in the woods. You have, what, a teenager and a pre-teen tied up like prisoners of war? Did you really think you couldn’t handle them? God, you’re pathetic.” 

“Come down here and fight me like a man, then!” Ruon-Jian challenges. 

“If I can defeat your minions so easily, what makes me think you’re any more of a challenge?” the voice taunts. “You’re not so bad.” 

“Prove it!” 

The trees all rustle at once. If Roman strains, he can faintly hear the lightest of footsteps and grunts as something leaps from tree to tree. Knives appear out of nowhere, and a soldier screams as one pierces clean through his hand. There’s a gleaming ribbon attached to the hilt, and it gets yanked back before anyone can process what’s happened. 

“No match for me,” the voice lilts. “Too bad, so sad.” 

Ruon-Jian screams and thrusts his arms out, creating a fireball that he hurls at the nearest tree. He keeps screaming as he burns all the trees surrounding the clearing, and Roman cowers down to avoid a serious burn. 

“Where are you now, without your precious tree shelter to protect you?!” Ruon-Jian shrieks. “You’re _nothing!_ ”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the voice says. A shadow steps forward from the wreck of the forest, knife glinting in the moonlight as they hold it between two fingers. 

Virgil steps into the clearing, and Roman gasps a little. He can’t help himself. Ruon-Jian stares at him, and then he laughs. 

“Another child? Pathetic.” 

“I’ve taken down too many soldiers for you to call me that,” Virgil says coolly. “Also, destroying the forest? Not cool, asshat. The spirits are gonna beat your ass.” 

“Spirits?!” Ruon-Jian snarls. “What can a spirit do to me?” 

“Count yourself lucky that you won’t find out tonight,” Virgil says, “because I’m dishing out justice on their behalf tonight.” 

“Where is the Avatar?”

“Safe from people like you,” Virgil says. “I disabled your soldier’s bending, and you think I’m not the biggest threat in this clearing?” 

“You are a _child_!” 

“So are the benders you have tied like dogs,” Virgil says. He looks angrier than Roman has ever seen him. “Let them go, and let Roman go too. Don’t think I won’t fuck you up.” 

“What can you possibly do to me?” 

Virgil spins a cord rapidly, and the knife on the end gleams. “You sound scared. Fine by me. Send your minions to fight me if you’re so scared. I’ll take them down and then I’ll come for your pansy ass.” 

Ruon-Jian snaps his fingers and three Fire Nation soldiers step in front of him. He retreats to the edge of the clearing with the soldiers holding Logan and Patton, and Roman steps back as well. Virgil’s eyes gleam as he steps forward. 

Roman sees the cord wrapped tightly around Virgil’s wrist as he throws one of the knives. It sticks in the shoulder of a soldier, who cries out in pain. Another soldier throws a burst of fire at the cord while it’s still stretched out across the clearing, and Roman winces, sure that Virgil is about to lose a weapon. 

Instead, he smirks, yanking the cord and pulling the knife free. “What, did you think that I was going to fight a crew of Fire Nation soldiers and not use my fireproof weapons? Morons.” 

Roman quickly realizes that Virgil has far more of an upper hand than he thought. He has a knife-on-a-string in each hand, and he wields them with terrifying efficacy. He spins the knives and uses them to keep the soldiers a good distance from his body. They retaliate with fire, but Virgil just evades them almost effortlessly with an impressive display of gymnastics. 

“Stop playing around and kill him!” Ruon-Jian shrieks, presumably to his own men. Virgil rolls his shoulders back and grins. 

“Great idea, idiot. I should stop playing, shouldn’t I?”

His knives disappear into his clothes and he runs straight towards the nearest soldier. They shout in surprise, and Virgil shifts to a stance that’s strangely similar to earth bending. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head slightly to the left and lays out a series of jabs, one-two-three-four-five, quick and staccato like Roman’s terrified heartbeat. The soldier wheezes in shock and collapses to the ground in front of Virgil. 

“Use your fire bending! Set him ablaze!” 

“I - I can’t,” the soldier says, “My bending - something happened, I can’t - I - it’s gone!” 

Virgil grins, cracks his knuckles, and bares his teeth. 

“Who’s next, motherfuckers?”

* * *

It’s short work after that, disposing of the soldiers. 

The leader, that slimy Ruon-Jian, gets away, but Virgil does manage to disarm the rest of his men. He does his best to only use non-lethal combat tactics, but when he gets to the men that had tied up and hurt Logan and Patton . . . 

Well, it’s not _his_ fault if a knife ends up in their exposed throats.

It’s short work to slice through Patton’s binds, and he hugs Virgil fiercely the second he’s free. “That was so scary,” Patton breathes. “I thought they were gonna kill us - I thought they were gonna kill _you_ -”

“Am I forgiven for swearing?” Virgil teases. Something wet seeps into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, Virge, you’re forgiven.” 

Logan is practically mummified in ropes on the ground, but he hasn’t made a single move to free himself. He just lays there, catatonic, and for a moment Virgil worries he’s been injured. “Lo?” Logan flinches, tears spilling down his face. “Hey, buddy, it’s me. It’s Virgil. Can I cut you free?” 

Logan nods. “T - Thomas?” he rasps. 

“I hid him before I came,” Virgil says. “We’ll go back and get him, Lo, I promise. Let me get you out of these . . .”

Logan stands up once he’s been cut free, stumbling forward one, two, three steps before collapsing. Virgil catches him, quickly sweeping him up into his arms. “Whoa! Are your legs sore from the ropes?” 

“Y . . . yes.” 

“Okay. I gotcha. Come on, I got you, you’re safe. I’ll take you to Thomas, okay?” 

Logan tucks his head into Virgil’s shoulder, breathing shakily. Virgil presses his face into Logan’s hair reassuringly and politely ignores the way his shirt becomes damp.

* * *

Thomas throws himself out of the tree the minute he hears Virgil call to him. “Where’s my brother?! Logan, what happened?!” 

Logan has been still and silent since Virgil cut him free, but now he shifts and reaches for Thomas, hands opening and closing rapidly in a childish gesture he would normally never use. Thomas pulls him into a tight hug, and Logan’s breath hitches as he sobs into Thomas’s neck. Patton presses his face against Thomas’s shoulder, and Virgil smiles. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman murmurs. Virgil turns, confused. 

“What? Why?” 

“I froze. If I’d fought back, if I’d done - _something_ , maybe - maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Ruon-Jian was right. I am a coward. I couldn’t stand up to my father for Dee and Remus, I couldn’t stand up to Ruon-Jian to save Logan and Patton, I . . .”

“You are not a coward,” Virgil says firmly. “You’re a victim of shitty circumstances and a shitty upbringing. Doesn’t make you any less of a person. It’s not your fault you were conditioned into this.” 

“That would have been me,” Roman says. “If Father hadn’t threatened Remus and Dee . . . It would have been me.” 

“But it wasn’t,” Virgil says. “And I refuse to believe that you would have stepped onto a battlefield full of innocents and decided to kill them. You’ve got a conscience, Princey, and you’ve got a good heart. You’ll be okay.” 

Roman smiles, just a little, and touches Virgil’s shoulder. “Thanks, Vee.” 

“No problem, Roman. What are friends for?” 

“Are you finally admitting we’re friends?” Roman probably meant to be teasing, but his voice quivers. Virgil smiles softly, leaning forward and bumping his head against Roman’s cheek. 

“Yeah, Ro. We’re friends.”

* * *

They make it back to Remy, waiting in his cave with Dragon. Roman writes a quick letter filling Remus and Dolos in on what happened, telling them not to reply and begging them to take care of Dragon, before sending the hawk off. Patton climbs onto Remy’s head, and they fly away. 

Logan is huddled up against Thomas’s side, face blank. “Lo,” Thomas coos, “are you okay?” 

Logan doesn’t speak, tucking himself more closely against Thomas. “Go to sleep, okay? I’ll keep you safe.” Eventually, Logan’s eyes slide shut, and Thomas exhales heavily. 

“Has he ever done that before?”

“Once. After we escaped our home village, when it was on fire. He just . . . shut down. He’s never been good at dealing with emotions, so he doesn’t deal with them at all.” 

“Not healthy,” Patton says from Remy’s head. 

“You’re telling me. But I can’t force him to talk about his feelings. He deserves to work through things at his own pace.” 

“I can respect that,” Virgil interjects, “but that kinda implies that he’s dealing with his feelings, doesn’t it?” 

Thomas pulls Logan into his lap and shifts so his brother is cuddled against his chest. Logan exhales softly, mouth open in a little “O” as he breathes. He’s never looked younger than he does right now, except for maybe when he’d been tied up by Fire Nation soldiers. 

“I have to take care of him. It’s my job. He’s the only family I have left.” 

“The only blood you have left,” Virgil says. “Don’t think for a second that he’s your only family.” 

“Who else do we have?” Thomas whispers. 

“Me, obviously. And Ro, and Pat. You have us now.” 

“He’s tellin’ th’tr’th,” Logan mumbles sleepily. “Don’eed bendin’ f’r that.” Thomas smiles at Virgil, watery and honest, and Virgil smiles back. It might be ragtag, but it’s _his_ family, and anyone who threatens it has him to answer to. 


	4. book four: water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: cartoon/fantasy violence, sympathetic remus and deceit (called dolos), angst, kidnapping, swearing, mentions of ptsd and genocide

“Virgil.” 

Virgil looks up from where he’s rolling out his sleeping bag to see Logan. It’s the first time Logan has spoken to anyone other than Thomas in three or four days, since the debacle in the forest with the Fire Nation. “Yeah, Lo?” 

Logan fidgets with his fingers. “I have a question.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

“What you did in the forest.” Virgil lets out a slow, even breath; he knew he would have to answer for what he did eventually. “What was it, exactly?” 

“Water bending has two primary purposes. The first is control of water, used for fighting, irrigation, building, so on and so forth. The second is control of the body. Everyone has energy pathways flowing within them. Water benders can direct these energy pathways and concentrate them in certain areas to heal people. It depends on the quality of the water, the location, type, and severity of the injury, and the skill of the bender, so it’s not like, a miracle cure, but . . .” 

Logan doesn’t respond, so Virgil keeps talking. “There might not have been any water benders to teach me those pathways when I was growing up, but there were scrolls. I studied them, memorized the energy pathways in the body, and figured out where I would need to attack in order to disrupt them and disable someone. There are different points of attack to disable different types of bending, and a whole separate method for non-benders, but -”

“Is is permanent?” Logan’s voice is whispery and hoarse. 

“Is what permanent?” 

“You took their bending away.” Logan hugs himself tightly. “Is it permanent?” 

Virgil understands, then. Bending is a critical part of Logan’s life; it’s how he sees, it’s how he interacts with the world. Depriving Logan of his bending is as simple as lifting him off the ground and severing his connection to the earth, something that recently happened. It’s still fresh and burning in his mind. 

“No.” He reaches out and takes Logan’s hand. Logan startles, but grips Virgil’s hand when he tries to pull away. “It isn’t, Logan. The bending always returns within forty-eight hours, and I developed counter-techniques to restore it early. I would never take someone’s bending away permanently.” 

Logan shudders, and Virgil squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“You never told us about your power. Why didn’t you mention you could do that?” 

“You all bend every single day. It’s an integral part of you. If I told you that I developed powers with the express purpose ot taking that bending away, I . . . I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me.” 

“Why make it at all?” 

“When the Fire Nation killed my father, I remember attacking them. I remember trying to hurt them so they wouldn’t hurt my father, but - but it didn’t work. They killed him. They struck him down right in front of me, and I was _powerless_. I couldn’t stop thinking that if - if I could just stop them from bending, maybe . . . maybe Dad would still be alive.” Logan makes a soft, wounded noise at the mention of Virgil’s dad. 

Virgil pulls his hand out of Logan’s, turning away. “I’m sorry, Logan. I promise I won’t ever use that technique in front of you again.” 

Logan inhales like he means to speak, but Virgil stands up. “I’m going to get more firewood.” He disappears into the woods, feeling ice spread through his veins. Some hero he turned out to be, in the end.

* * *

Patton ends up teaching Thomas to air bend. 

It takes a long time, since the philosophies are so different, but eventually Thomas starts to get the hang of it. The first time he makes an air scooter successfully, he and Patton spend hours chasing each other around the clearing playing some convoluted form of tag. 

Virgil sits perched on a tree stump, watching them. Logan and Roman sit together by the fire, speaking in low voices. Logan says something and shivers; Roman glances at Virgil and wraps an arm around Logan’s shoulders. 

Virgil turns away.

* * *

“You know, you sure seemed good at that.” 

Virgil turns around to see Roman. He’s looking at a point somewhere above Virgil’s shoulder, expression stony. He has a sinking feeling he knows what this is about, but he doesn’t want to know. “At what?” 

“Playing dumb? Not your best move.” Roman takes a step closer. “You sure seemed good at disabling fire benders. Seems like you practiced those a whole lot. Were you preparing to take care of me the same way?” 

“I would never attack you.” 

“But you could. You don’t trust fire benders.” 

“I trust _you_.” Roman scoffs. 

“Sure you do.” He turns away. 

“You don’t believe me?” Virgil challenges. “I just saved your ass, Princey, I -” 

“I didn’t _ask_ you to,” Roman says. “And I didn’t _need_ you to, either! Thomas could have done that.” 

“Or, they could have captured the Avatar! You don’t know how it would have gone -”

“And you didn’t need to use your _witchcraft_ against my people!” Virgil flinches at that, and Roman sneers at him. “What will it take for you to turn that on us? What will it take for you to decide that _we’re_ threats, too? Am I going to wake up one morning paralyzed and unable to bend while you take down Logan and Patton and Thomas? I’ve lost one family, Virgil. I won’t let you take away another one.” 

He heads away from Virgil, who reaches up to grasp his necklace, the only remnant of his parents and his tribe that he has. “I thought I was part of that family, too,” he whispers.

* * *

“Where are you going?” 

Roman grips his wrist almost painfully tight. Virgil doesn’t flinch. “The moon is full. Water benders are at the height of their power.” 

“You’re not a water bender. Why does that matter?”

“It’s tradition for my people to offer sacrifices to the spirits of the moon and the ocean on the night of the full moon. Even though I’m not a water bender, I still do it every month. It’s a way to feel close to my people, and the spirits of my parents.” Roman doesn’t let go, and Virgil raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you gonna let me go, or what?” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“What? Why?” 

“To make sure you don’t secretly double back and attack us.” Virgil feels like Roman’s driven a dagger straight into his heart. 

“Is that really necessary, Roman?” Patton asks. “Virgil would never hurt us.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s before we watched the way he _stole the bending_ of all those fire benders.” 

“It isn’t _permanent_ , Roman, it’s a disabling technique. Their bending will have returned well before now -”

“We don’t exactly have anything to go on except your word, do we? How do we know you’re not lying to lure us into a false sense of complacency?” Roman’s face twists and contorts, and Virgil shivers.

“So let me go with him, then.” 

“Patton, no! What if he attacks you? You’re too valuable to lose.” Virgil’s eyes widen at the implications and he bites his lower lip. Patton takes Roman’s shoulder gently, smiling at him. 

“It’s okay, Roman. I don’t think Virgil would ever hurt us.” Virgil’s heart lifts, but it quickly drops again as Patton continues. “Besides, even if he _did_ try, I’m too fast for him! It’s gonna be fine. I promise.” Roman sighs, leaning forward and gently nuzzling his shoulder. 

“Okay, Pat. I trust you.” He makes a point of glaring at Virgil when he says it. 

Patton follows along at Virgil’s side with a characteristic bounce in his step, like the wind itself is buoying him forward. Virgil holds the small bundle of food tightly to his chest, heading to the river with eyes quiet and downcast. 

“He doesn’t mean it,” Patton says. “Roman, I mean. He’s just -”

“You don’t have to make excuses for him. I know what he means.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Pat, I know what ‘I think you’re a menace and I don’t want you around anymore’ means. I’m not stupid.”

“He said that to you?” 

“He didn’t have to.” 

Virgil reaches the water and carefully gathers a few twigs and leaves. He ties them together with some twine to form small boats, carefully laying out the offerings. “You don’t really have to stay if you’re uncomfortable with me.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable!” 

“I don’t need Logan’s power to know you’re lying.” Virgil sighs. “But I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. You all need your bending so much, and to know that I could take it from you must be truly terrifying, even if it does come back.” 

Patton doesn’t say anything as Virgil steps into the river. Patton is silent through the entire sacrifice. When Virgil steps out of the river, he follows along his side. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.” 

“How did you sacrifice to the ocean from here? This is a river.” 

“All rivers connect to the ocean. Eventually, those sacrifices will make their way there.” 

“That’s so cool!” Patton smiles, and Virgil quirks one corner of his mouth up. Once they reach the camp, Roman (pacing around the perimeter) darts forward and pulls Patton away from Virgil. His smile falls, and he settles down next to Remy. 

“Do you hate me, too?” he asks. Remy yawns, reaching his large head around to press his huge wet nose against Virgil’s chest. Virgil exhales, smiling. “Thanks, boy. Would you miss me if I was gone?” Remy huffs, and Virgil reaches up to touch his nose. 

“I think you’re the only one.”

When they go to sleep that night, Roman makes a point of putting his sleeping bag between Virgil and the others. He lays down facing Virgil, frowning in his direction. 

Virgil moves his sleeping bag away from the fire.

* * *

“You’re what?” 

Virgil ties his bedding tightly. “I’m leaving.” 

“You can’t leave!” Thomas grabs his wrist, and Virgil turns to look at him. 

“You don’t need me, do you? There isn’t anything useful I can teach you, and I just make everyone else here uncomfortable. You all rely on bending, and I take that away. I make Logan uncomfortable. I make you all uncomfortable.” 

“You don’t do that!” 

“He isn’t lying, Thomas.” Logan’s voice is quiet, but it echoes in Virgil’s ears like a shot. 

“It’s fine.” He smiles, and it must be the fakest one he’s ever done. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I was of much use to you.” 

“You saved us from the Fire Nation!” 

“Yeah, but you in the Avatar state could have done the same thing without terrifying the pants off your brother.” Roman frowns; he looks torn between being glad to get rid of Virgil and suspicious that Virgil is leaving and using Roman’s logic from a few days ago.

“Where would you even go?” Patton sounds desperate. 

“Probably the North Pole,” Virgil says. “I’ve never visited my sister tribe. Maybe there’s something else I can learn about my people up there. I can see real water benders at work.” 

“That’s it!” Thomas says. He takes Virgil’s hand. “If we go to the North Pole, I can learn to water bend! But none of us know the first thing about the Water Tribe.” 

“I can’t imagine they’d be very welcoming to a disgraced Fire Nation prince, either,” Roman says. “But if we’re with another water bender -”

“They’d let you in,” Patton says. “Please, stay, Virgil!” 

“So I can be your key? What, so you all get to hate me unless I’m worth something to you?” Patton winces, and Roman and Logan look a little guilty. Virgil is still angry, but he looks at Thomas and exhales. “I’ll help you, Thomas. You’re the Avatar. You have to learn water bending. But once we’re safely at the North Pole, that’s it. They don’t want anything more to do with me.” 

“That’s not true,” Thomas says. Virgil sighs. 

“Don’t lie to me for their sake.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Patton says. 

Virgil looks up from where he’s washing out his overshirt in the river. “For what?” 

“Upsetting you.” 

“What makes you think you upset me?” 

“You did kind of yell at us all.” 

“What, you think you didn’t deserve it?"

“No. I know we did.” 

“So you’re not here to lecture me about how I should apologize for losing my temper and disrupting the peace?” Patton winces. “I’m sorry. That was - “

“A jab at my pacifism?” Virgil doesn’t look at Patton, but his hands shake where he grips his clothes. “No. It’s okay.” 

“I insulted your entire culture. It’s not -”

“I haven’t been doing a great job of upholding my culture, Virgil. I may be a pacifist, but that doesn’t mean everything is smoothed over and concealed. It means that I don’t believe in hurting anyone. But I’ve hurt you.” 

“I’m not -”

“Physically hurt?” Patton gives a wry smile. “No, but that isn’t the only kind of hurt there is, is there?” Virgil reaches up to hold his necklace. “I haven’t been mediating nearly as well as I’d like to lately. I’ve been letting Roman and Logan’s fear affect you. I’ve been letting it hurt you.” 

“It’s not your job to keep peace among us, Patton.” 

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even tried. I’ve let a rift grow between you and Logan and Roman.” 

“It’s not your fault that I terrify them, Patton. You can’t force them to not be afraid of me.” 

“But I can try to make sure they don’t treat you like garbage. You haven’t done anything to them specifically.” 

“Yeah, but even if I try, you’re too fast to get hurt, aren’t you?” Virgil keeps scrubbing at his overshirt. He knows it’s probably clean by now, and he knows that it’s mean of him to throw Patton’s words back into his face when he didn’t mean it to be offensive, but he doesn’t really care at the moment. He’s angry and upset, and he feels more alone than he ever has. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, again. He reaches towards Virgil, slowly, before hesitating. “Is it alright if I touch you?” Virgil shrugs, but doesn’t flinch away, and Patton places a hand on his shoulder. “I really am sorry, Virgil. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You _don’t_ deserve to be treated like that.” 

Virgil sighs, leaning his head to the right so that he can squeeze Patton’s hand between his cheek and his shoulder. “I appreciate your apology, Patton. But - but I don’t know if I can accept it, I -”

“That’s fine, Virgil.” 

“It - what?” 

“You don’t have to accept my apology if you’re not ready, Virgil. If you’re still hurting, it’s okay to hurt. I don’t want you to hold on to your hurt forever, of course, that’s not good, but - but it’s okay to take some time to process your emotions.” Virgil exhales. 

“That . . . really?” 

“Really.” Virgil turns to look at Patton then. Patton smiles at him, soft and reassuring, and Virgil is struck with a memory out of nowhere: _a woman, long hair shining white in the moonlight, pressing her hand to his cheek as it begins to fade away, smiling softly at him as she tells him she loves him, she loves him, “I love you, Virgil” -_

“Thank you, Patton.” Virgil’s voice shakes, but Patton doesn’t comment on it. He squeezes Virgil’s shoulder once and heads back to camp. Virgil pulls his overshirt from the river and spreads it on the river rocks to dry.

* * *

_A young woman stands at the edge of the ocean. The full moon is bright red, and the color of the world is fading from view. “Please, don’t do this,” a man begs, holding her hand. A basket sits at his feet, with a squirming bundle of blankets inside_ . _“Please, Oma.”_

_She turns to look at him, and there is a strange, vacant light glossing over her eyes. “I am sorry, my love,” she says, reaching up to cup his face and stroke her thumb across his face. “But I much do this. The world has been thrown out of balance, horrifically so. It is my duty to put it right again.”_

_“But - but think of our son! How will he grow up without his mother? How will I go on without you?”_

_“The moon is gone, Yuan. Can you not feel it? Something has happened at the Northern Water Tribe. Something has happened to the spirit.”_

_Yuan holds Oma’s hand tightly. “Please, Oma. It does not have to be you.”_

_“Oh, my love, I am sorry, but it cannot be anyone else.”_

Virgil jolts awake, chest heaving. There are tears pouring down his face, but he doesn’t know why. He knows he was dreaming, but he doesn’t remember it. All he remembers is a world devoid of color, a hand pressed against a loved one’s cheek, a whispered apology. 

He looks up at the brightness of the waning gibbous moon and tries to steady his breathing.

* * *

“Mister!” The little girl catches Virgil’s hand, tugging on it. “Mister, why are you goin’ into the woods?” 

“I’m camping out there, miss,” Virgil says, turning and crouching to put himself on eye level with the child. Her eyes blow wide with terror, and she grips his hands. “Don’t look so alarmed, I’ll be safe.” 

“You don’ understand, Mister, there are _monsters_ in the woods!” 

“What kind of monsters?” Virgil tries to be soothing, as best he can, but the little girl’s next words shock him so badly that he almost collapses. 

“Evil ones, Mister! They steal your bending if you’ve got it an’ leave you paralyzed! They suck out your soul!” 

Virgil takes a deep breath. “It’s alright, miss. I promise that there are no monsters in the woods. And even if there were, I’m stronger than they are. I’m not a bender, so they can’t attack me.” He shows her the knife hidden in his sleeve. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.” 

Once he reassures the little girl and sends her running back across the village square, he stands up to see Roman watching him with a strange expression. Logan is standing next to him; clearly, they both heard the whole conversation. Virgil looks at Roman with the coolest, most neutral expression he can manage. 

“Did you need something?” he asks. Roman shakes his head. “Please excuse me, then.” He walks past them, proud that his hands don’t shake around the basket of provisions.

* * *

_A woman stands before him, resplendent in white. Her hair is long and white, not like an old woman’s but brilliant and ethereal and floating, like moonlight, like silk in a soft spring breeze. Her white dress floats around her like clouds as she reaches forward, brushing Virgil’s bangs back. Silver ornaments glint in her hair, and her eyes are the only thing that do not shine white-gold and silver; they are a deep, piercing blue._

_“I am sorry that I could not be there for you, my little moonbeam, but never doubt my love for you. I am with you, always, and I will be with you in your hour of greatest need.”_

_Virgil opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The woman smiles at him, sadly, and pulls her hand away from his face. She retreats slowly from him, as though being pulled backwards by some unseen force, and even though Virgil strains he cannot lift his arms to reach for her -_

Virgil opens his eyes, hearing screams ringing in his ears. He sits upright immediately, reaching for a knife, but he doesn’t see any imminent threats. He realizes quickly that the screams are coming from Logan. 

One second later, he’s being thrown through the air as a massive slab of earth erupts from underneath his sleeping bag. Virgil twists around, tugging his arm out of his sleeping bag midair and pulling a knife from his bag. He drives it into the earth beneath him _hard_ to anchor himself while he fights to kick himself free of his sleeping bag. 

“What is happening?!” he shouts. 

More surprised shouts echo through the camp, and a fireball launches into the sky. Under the blazing light, Virgil catches a glimpse of Logan, eyes screwed shut, flat on his back. He’s moving his hands and feet across the earth beneath him, bending in his sleep. 

Virgil scrambles to find his footing, pulling his knife out and sliding down the slab. Once he touches the ground, Logan flings a foot in his direction, and Virgil goes flying again. He stabs into the earth again, clinging to the tip of the newly-formed cliff and trying to see where everyone else is. Roman is using his fire bending to hover above the ground; Patton is using an air scooter to stay off the ground; Thomas is trying his best to bend away the earth around his brother in an attempt to reach him. 

Virgil sees Remy slap his tail against the ground and take off in an attempt to get away from Logan’s rogue bending, and an idea pops into his head. He whistles, waving one arm back and forth until Remy turns and flies toward him. Virgil sprints down to the ground, waiting and timing it just right, and when Logan sends him flying, he flings out a hand and sends a cord-knife soaring through the air. 

By sheer luck, it catches, stabbing into the side of Remy’s saddle and yanking Virgil forward with such force that he nearly dislocates his arm. He tugs himself up the cord hand over hand, as best he can, until he can get a grip on Remy’s fur. He tugs himself up into the saddle, scrambling over the edge and yanking out his knife. He flops over flat on his back, breathing heavily, massaging his sore shoulder. 

Remy lows at him, snapping him out of it, and he shakes his head to clear it. “Right, right. I gotta wake up Logan.” He reaches for his side, feeling for the waterskin he keeps close at all times. “Can you get me close to him, boy?” Remy makes a disgruntled huff, but turns and begins to fly lower. Virgil stands up on the saddle, uncorking the waterskin. It’s a risk, but he knows that no one can see him, so he bends the water out of his skin and throws it down towards Logan. It splashes right into his face, and he sits upright, gasping and spluttering. 

The earthen pillars crumble and collapse, and Thomas is able to bend them into laying flat again. Logan’s chest is heaving as Remy touches down and Virgil vaults out of the saddle. “What did you do?” Roman demands, still hovering above the ground.

“I dumped water on his face to wake him up,” Virgil says. He hurries over to Logan’s side, gently touching his shoulder. Logan flinches and his whole body recoils, and Virgil draws his hand back like it’s a hot iron. “Logan, it’s okay. It’s Virgil. You were dreaming, but it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Logan’s chest is heaving like the earth moments ago. “Vir . . . gil . . .?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s me. Take deep breaths, alright? Follow me.” He carefully guides Logan’s hand to his chest, modeling deep, slow breaths. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Now you try. In for four - it’s okay, try again. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Slowly, Logan’s hyperventilating evens out into steady breaths. Thomas drops to his knees next to him, and Logan throws himself into his brother’s arms. Virgil stands up and retreats a fair distance away while Thomas holds Logan close, murmuring into his hair and rubbing his back. 

“What was that thing you were talking him through?” Patton asks, letting his air scooter dissolve. 

“Breathing exercise. I get panic attacks sometimes, so my dad taught me how to calm myself down in case I had one and he wasn’t there to help me. Turned out to be pretty useful, wouldn’t you say?” Patton nods. Roman touches down nearby, giving Virgil a strange, indecipherable look. Virgil ignores him, mostly, but he doesn’t miss the way Roman’s eyes linger on him a moment longer than normal.

* * *

“I don’t know why you thought riding a _sea monster_ was a good idea!” Thomas scolds. Patton just laughs, toweling off his messy curls while Virgil lays out his soaked clothes to assess the damages. “You could have drowned!” 

“I would’ve been fine!” Patton says. “I’ve ridden scarier things before!” 

Virgil pulls a needle and thread from his pack, sitting cross-legged as he quietly begins to sew up the tears in Patton’s clothes. Air Nomad fabrics are much lighter than his own heavy winter furs, so he has to use a lighter hand and more delicate threads. He can’t pull as hard as he usually does, either, which is a shame, because aggressively tugging thread through cloth helps him work out his feelings. 

Someone clears their throat above him. Virgil flicks his eyes up to see Roman, standing in front of him but not looking at him. It’s nothing new; since he blew up at Virgil in the forest that night, Roman has only looked at Virgil when he thinks Virgil isn’t looking at him. Virgil pretends it does not bother him. 

“I’m mending Patton’s clothes,” Virgil says. Roman hadn’t asked him to explain what he was doing, but Virgil finds it easier to assume that’s what Roman wants these days. “Is there an issue with that?” He is, perhaps, being a bit more barbed than necessary, but he is also not particularly concerned with how Roman feels at the moment, since Roman has decided that how he feels is not relevant either. 

Roman kicks the dirt, staring at a fixed point over Virgil’s head. “Would . . . you like . . . some help with that?” 

“Wow, no need to be so eager.” Roman winces a little; Virgil fights the urge to apologize. 

“I was being serious,” Roman grumbles. 

“I’d take you up on it, but Air Nomad fabric’s pretty light. If an inexperienced hand tries to sew it, they’d probably rip it even more. Hell, I’m having trouble with it, and I’ve been sewing since I was, like, seven.” Roman turns around. “Thank you, though. For offering.” 

Roman hesitates. “Welcome,” he mutters, walking away a little faster than normal.

* * *

They get waylaid shortly after the new moon when Logan goes missing. 

Virgil still isn’t sure how it happens - one moment, he’s on his way out to look for firewood, leaving Logan and Patton setting up camp while Roman goes into the nearby village for supplies and Thomas forages for wild food. The next, Logan’s screams are echoing through the woods before they cut off, sudden and sharp. 

Virgil turns on his heel and sprints back towards the camp. He sees Patton, splayed on his side next to the fire pit he’d been digging. A dart sticks out of his neck, but he’s still breathing; some kind of tranquilizer, then. Logan is nowhere to be seen. 

When Thomas comes back, he nearly enters the Avatar state from pure rage. “ **Where is my brother?!** ” he roars. 

“I don’t know! I came back and they’d knocked Patton unconscious, and - and Logan’s gone, I don’t -”

Thomas’s eyes are glowing, and the earth trembles below him as he begins to rise off the ground. “ **My brother has been stolen from me and I want him back, NOW!** ” Air and earth whip around him, and fire streams from the corners of his eyes as water pours down his cheeks. “ **I will not rest until he is returned to me!** ” 

“I know, Thomas, I know you’re hurting! But we have to take care of Patton! We have to make sure he recovers, and then we can go after Logan!” Thomas’s chest heaves as the glow of power leaves him; he drops to the earth and begins to wail. Virgil’s entire heart curls in on itself like a flower trampled beneath someone’s feet.

* * *

Virgil volunteers to stay with Patton while Thomas and Roman scour the forest tor traces of Logan’s captors. When he’s sure he’s alone, he quietly bends a little water towards the puncture mark on Patton’s neck, keeping his breathing deep and even to focus on drawing out whatever toxin lingers in Patton’s blood. He makes sure that Patton stays asleep, gently laying him on his sleeping bag and tucking his thick Southern Water Tribe blanket around him. 

The leaves rustle around him as he stokes the fire, poking it with a stick and carefully adding some more kindling. Remy curls his large, fluffy body around Patton’s sleeping form, lowing gently and sweeping his tail on top of Patton. Virgil stares into the flames, wondering what it would feel like to be a fire bender. He wonders what it feels like, to thrust your hand forward and have flames lick out at everything around you.

More rustling sounds from the forest. Virgil very deliberately keeps poking the fire, gathering his strength to spin and leap into the air, letting a knife slip from his sleeve and drop into his fingers. “I know you’re there,” he says, slowly standing up. “There’s no point in hiding.” 

Whoever’s back there takes a step forward, then another, deliberately cracking twigs beneath their boots. Virgil turns around, fingers wrapped around the hilt of his knife, preparing to strike. The figure steps through the trees, into the light of the fire, and Virgil frowns, squinting because he thinks that it’s Roman, but it can’t be, because Roman doesn’t have dark bags under his eyes like he’s been punched or a mustache or a gap between his two front teeth or a streak of bright silver-white in his hair. 

Roman doesn’t have a hunted look on his face. 

“You’re his brother,” Virgil says. He doesn’t relax his stance or sheathe his knife. “Remus, right? What are you doing here?” 

“Your little earth bender friend. He went missing, right?” Virgil’s eyes widen. 

“What did you do to him?” 

“Nothing at all, I resent the question. But I know where he is, and I know who has him. It’s not - it’s not good, but if we act fast, we might be able to get him back.” 

Virgil narrows his eyes, frowning, but Remus seems to be sincere. “Have a seat. Roman and Thomas will be back soon.”

* * *

Roman all but tackles Remus when he comes back, and Remus shakes when he hugs his brother. Virgil quietly sits next to Patton, two fingers on his neck to take his pulse, watching Roman and Remus speak softly to each other on the other side of the fire. Roman keeps glancing towards Virgil, who does his best to focus only on Patton sleeping beside him. 

Thomas’s face lights up when he sees another figure around the fire, but it falls when he realizes it isn’t Logan. “I didn’t find him.” He sits down, and the pebbles around him tremble. 

“I did,” Remus says. Thomas’s head snaps up so fast that Virgil’s neck hurts just watching him. “I mean, I don’t _have_ him, but I know where he is. It’s not a good place, Ro.” 

“What happened?” 

“Ruon-Jian’s an admiral now, did you know that?” 

Roman curses. “That bastard already attacked us once. We were lucky to get away with our lives the first time.” Virgil thinks back to the soldiers he took down in the forest and keeps his mouth shut. 

“Does he have Logan?” Thomas asks. He curls his hands into fists on his thighs, digging his nails into his palms. Remus nods, pushing his white hair off his face. 

“He was drinking in the port bar, boasting about how he captured someone close to the Avatar. He said he caught an earth bender and threw him into a metal ship without any earth on it, so he can’t bend. He was _laughing_ about locking up a little kid, he was laughing about how he’s gonna drag the kid back in front of Father and -”

“He _wouldn’t_ ,” Roman says. “Father will _kill_ Logan!” 

“Why do you think the slimy bastard’s taking him to the Fire Nation capital, Roro? He might be a bastard, but he’s not an idiot. If the Avatar’s younger brother is captured or killed, it’ll be enough to incite rage in the Avatar himself, who’ll show up to the palace seeking retribution. Father will destroy him and rewrite history to vilify the Avatar and put himself in a position of power.”

“And if he times it right, he could destroy the Avatar cycle permanently,” Thomas adds. Everyone stares at him with horror; he stares into the fire. “The spirits told me on the solstice. If I enter the Avatar state from the rage of what happened to Logan and the Fire Lord kills me while I’m in that state, the reincarnation cycle gets broken. The Avatar disappears from the world, forever.” 

Virgil pokes the fire with a stick. “Damn,” he finally says. “That’s some heavy shit right there.” 

“We have to be careful. If we’re not, we could lose everything - everything we’ve been fighting for, everything we stand for.” 

“Ruon-Jian knows what he’s doing,” Remus says. “He knew I was at that bar. He trusted that I would find a way to get the message to you, but he didn’t follow me because he’s trying to get us all in one place. He intends to crush the hope of the free world like a mouse under his foot and laugh at all the squishy sticky guts spilling out. Once he gets you all on his boat to rescue Logan, it’ll be a death trap waiting to happen. He’ll have all the cards.” 

“Why come, then?” Roman says. He grips his brother’s hand desperately. “Even if we succeed, the fact that we showed up at _all_ will prove to him that you’re collaborating with me! He’ll send the Fire Nation soldiers after you, your crew will mutiny, you and Uncle and Dee will all be killed!” 

“I’m tired,” Remus says, “of pretending to be the good prince. You were always more suited to nobility than I, brother. If this doesn’t serve as the ‘fuck you, Dad’ I’ve been dying to give him since we were kids, I don’t think anything will.” 

“What are you -”

“I’m a coward, Ro. I told myself that if I kept our correspondence secret and stayed on my boat and pretended to chase you, I would be keeping everyone safe. But I was just too afraid to openly disobey Father after what he did to you and Dee.” Remus curls his free hand into a fist. “I’m done being afraid. Ruon-Jian won’t fall for my bullshit, not anymore. I’m not going to be any help to you as a Fire Nation insider anymore. It’s time I draw the line in the sand and plant my flag.” 

Remus stands, turns to face Thomas, and curls his right hand into a fist. He places it over his heart and drops to one knee, bowing his head. “I denounce the Fire Lord,” he says, voice echoing around the fire. “He is no Lord of mine. If you will have me, Avatar, it would be my privilege to fight alongside you.” 

Thomas stares at him, and something sparks in his dark, hollow eyes. “Yes,” he says. His voice catches, but he reaches out and pats Remus on the head. (Virgil doesn’t know what he was supposed to do, but he doesn’t think it was _that_.) “We will.” 

Roman yanks Remus to his feet and grips his shoulders. “Uncle and Dee. Where are they? If you turn your back on Father, will they be safe?” 

“Uncle is clever. He already knows what I came here to do. He and Dee are still onboard my ship. I told them we’d swing back for them after we save the little earth bender, if we’re okay tacking on one more rescue mission.” 

Roman’s eyes are bright as starlight as he nods, repeatedly, Remus grins, looking a little unhinged, and when Roman grins back, their smiles are identical.

* * *

Virgil goes to fill his water skins in the river before they set out, in case he needs them. He submerges them in the river and looks up at the hairline sliver of crescent moon gleaming above him. “Please,” he whispers softly. “Tui, Spirit of the Moon, La, Spirit of the Ocean. Be with us on this mission. Let us all return safely.” 

For a moment, he swears he sees someone sitting in the curve of the moon, gazing down at the world. They lift an arm, and the water around Virgil begins to glow. 

“Virgil!” Patton shouts from the woods. “Are you coming?” 

The moment shatters like too-thin ice. Virgil corks his water skins and leaves the river.

* * *

Being on a Fire Navy ship feels wrong in a way that Virgil can’t describe. He knows that it’s safe, knows that Remus had ordered shore leave for every crew member except his Uncle and Roman’s mysterious beloved, knows that they’ll be safe, but when they approach all he can see is a massive bow slicing through the ice; all he can hear is the screams of the women of the village as heavy Fire Nation boots thump against the snow; all he can smell is the horrible charring crackle of his house ablaze, a Fire Nation soldier glaring down at him; all he can taste is the blood from biting his lip too hard as he screams for his dad at the top of his lungs; all he can feel is the tears freezing on his face and his heart shattering in his chest. 

“Hey,” Patton says, gently bumping their shoulders. Virgil startles; he almost reaches for a knife before Patton squeezes his hand gently. “You okay? You’re breathing funny.” 

“Don’t like Fire Nation ships,” Virgil grits out. “Bad - bad memories.” 

Patton nods, quietly. “I can’t say I don’t wanna bolt the other way every time I see Fire Nation red clothes. Especially after what - what happened at the Air Temple.” Virgil feels detached and floaty, but the weight of Patton lacing their fingers together brings him back down a little. “I . . . I knew Roman wouldn’t lie to me. I knew that if he suspected the Air Nomads were in cahoots with his father, he was probably right. And I - I _know_ it was stupid of me to pressure us to go to the temple anyway, I know it’s my fault this happened -”

“No,” Virgil says. 

“What?” 

“Not your fault.” Patton looks at him, and Virgil makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Words are hard now. But - um - not your fault. You’re . . .” He waves his free hand around while he tries to grab enough thoughts to string together a coherent sentence. “Good,” he finally settles on. “Look for the best. In people, I mean.” Virgil stares into the water. “Saw it in me.” 

“Oh, Virgil . . .”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says. “To look for good. I’m here to . . . to look for bad. So we balance out. You know?” 

Patton smiles, and Virgil only sees out of the corner of his eye, but it’s brighter than the sun. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I suppose we do.”

* * *

Roman’s reunion with his beloved is, predictably, suitably sappy. When they finally make it onto the ship, he’s all but vibrating with nerves. Remus hurries them all below deck, safely out of sight. Their uncle waits at the foot of the stairs, pulling Remus and Roman into a tight hug. 

“Oh, my boys,” he says softly. “I was so afraid you had lost your way, but you have found it again. You have found your way to me, you have found your way together, and you have found your way to the truth of this world. Balance is necessary. Your father has destroyed it, and we must put the world to rights again.” 

“Uncle,” Roman says. “Dee, is he -”

A door creaks open, and someone steps out. He’s dressed in the deep, rich greens of the Earth Kingdom, but there is a painstaking golden flame hand-stitched over his left breast. The left side of his face is wrapped in bandages, head shaved bare; the right side of his head still bears a tangled mop that hasn’t seen a comb in months. He leans heavily on the doorframe, chest heaving weakly, and his one free eye is a brilliant golden. 

“What’s all the commotion?” he rasps. “Re, did you drag some poor stray onboard again?” 

“Dee,” Roman whispers. The man - Dee, clearly - turns his head. Roman is on his blind side, so he just looks confused. 

“Why are we whispering?” He drops his own voice, imitating Roman, who takes a step closer and brings himself into Dee’s field of vision. His eye widens in shock. “Wh - I - R-Remus, this isn’t funny -” 

“Dolos,” Roman says. He reaches out and gently takes his hand, and Dolos shudders. He steps forward, reaching up and threading his fingers into Roman’s hair. “I thought - I was sure Father killed you, when I left, but - oh, my love, I am _sorry_. And - and I have missed you terribly.” 

“Roman?” Dolos’s voice is small and hopeful. “Is it truly you?” 

“Yes,” and Roman’s voice breaks as he leans in to press their foreheads together. “Dearest, darling, sunshine on my face -”

Dolos promptly shuts Roman up by letting out a choked-off sob and pressing their mouths together. Virgil knows nothing about him, but he admires his ability to make Roman stop rambling.

* * *

Dolos and Roman disappear into the room Dolos had been resting in to catch up and revel in each other’s presence. Remus and Emile lead everyone else to the main boiler room, which apparently pulls double duty as the unofficial war room. There’s a map spread out on the flat surface of an oil drum, pinned underneath _pai sho_ tiles. There are troop movements marked out in a variety of colors, and oil drum halves drawn up as little chairs around the map. 

Remus gestures for them all to sit; Emile offers them all cups of tea. “I am sure Roman has tried to emulate my tea-brewing skills, but he never had the patience for it.” 

“It’s just hot leaf juice!” Remus argues, throwing his tea back like a shot and cramming a sodden tea leaf into his mouth to chew on. “That’s what tea is, Uncle!”

“How could you say that to me?” Emile says, pressing a hand over his heart. “I am wounded! Mortally wounded!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus flaps his hand dismissively, but he’s smiling. Virgil quietly sips at the tea, humming in surprise when a warm, floral fragrance blooms across his tongue. 

“Different to any tea you have had before?” Emile asks, smirking knowingly. Virgil nods, letting the teacup warm his hands as he blows it gently. “I often get that reaction. Perhaps once the war is over, I shall retire from the army and open a tea shop.” 

“You’d be good at it,” Remus says. “I’ll come along and eat the old tea leaves!” 

“Do you actually eat them?” Thomas asks. 

“Nah. I just chew on ‘em until the flavor’s gone, and then I spit ‘em out. The other sailors chew on tobacco, but Uncle says I’m too young for that.” 

“And so you are. There is no point in your life when tobacco is good for you, much less when you are so young.” Emile pulls up a halved oil drum and begins explaining the symbolism behind the markings on the map, and Virgil leans in to listen intently. 

Almost two hours later, Roman finally makes an appearance. Dee is at his side, holding his hand, fidgeting nervously with the long bell sleeves of his jacket, leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder. “I missed you,” Roman says softly, squeezing Dee’s hand as they sit together. 

“Me, too. Remus is great, but . . . I missed you.” 

“Thank you!” Remus crows. “I _am_ great, aren’t I?” 

Virgil snorts into his teacup.

* * *

Watching Roman say goodbye to Dee and Emile is painful. He hugs them both close, shaking, hiding his face in Emile’s shoulder and trying not to cry. “Get as far from here as you can,” Roman says. “You have to disappear so that Ruon-Jian doesn’t blame you for what we’re going to do.” 

He leans in and gently kisses Dee’s unscarred cheek. “I love you, Dolos. You’ve been so brave and strong. Please, keep fighting a little longer for me, okay?” Dolos nods, gently pressing their foreheads together. Roman turns to his uncle next, shoulders hitching up as he fights not to cry. “Uncle . . . please, take care of him?” 

“Of course,” Emile says seriously. “And, Roman, I want you to know that I am so proud of the man you have become. You and your brother both have grown so much. You are much greater men than your father ever was.” Roman wipes his eyes, smiling, and Remus flushes with happiness. 

Once they disappear into the forest, Roman and Remus turn to their ship. “Ruon-Jian sails out in the morning,” Remus says. “We’ll have to break Logan out before then.” 

“Is he in this harbor?” 

“He’s several ships down, but he’s in this port. We’re going to have to be quick about this when we go, but we have to wait a few hours.” Thomas tenses, but before he can freak out, Roman continues, “We have to give Uncle and Dolos enough time to get a solid head start. We can’t let them get captured by the Fire Nation, or they’ll be killed.” 

Thomas looks disgruntled, but he nods. “I understand.”

* * *

They don’t end up giving Emile and Dolos nearly as much time as intended. There’s an explosion from the other end of the docks, where Ruon-Jian’s ship is; the twins look at each other, and then they’re all tearing off across the harbor. 

“Get to Remy!” Roman yells to Patton. “We’re gonna need an escape route and fast!” 

Patton peels off from the group, bending the air around him to increase his speed. Virgil draws two knives and grips them tightly, preparing himself for a fight. Thomas bends an earthen shelf out of the dock to catapult them onto the ship. 

“Prince Remus?!” one of the fire bender guards cries in shock. “Have you been kidnapped by the rebels?!” Remus gives him an eat-shit grin, moving in perfect unison with Roman as they punch forward a massive fireball. 

“I’ve joined the rebels, actually! Give a big fuck-you to daddy dearest for me, hmm?” 

A fire bender Virgil recognizes from the forest yells, “That’s the demon! Don’t let him touch you!” Virgil glances around, notices a spear on the ground from the guard the twins had disabled, and snatches it up. He spins it around in his hands, planting his feet firmly. 

“I don’t need to touch you to take you down,” he says. 

The fight with the guards goes swiftly. Thomas is ruthless, taking the soldiers down with air and fire while Remus pulls lightning out of thin air and throws it towards the enemy blinded by Roman’s fire. Virgil slashes and stabs his way across the deck towards the door leading down below, fighting furiously to get to Logan. 

Before any of them can get close, the deck explodes. 

A massive hole tears itself into existence, exploding out in a crumpled, jagged-edged starburst like an inverse flower unfurling. A metal humanoid figure clanks its way up to the surface, thrusting its legs and arms forward and tearing the ship up with every move. 

“What in the _shit_ is _that_?!” Remus screeches. The metal shell crumples away to reveal Logan, face flushed bright red with rage. He shifts into an earth bending stance and wrenches his hand up. A metal panel tears up out of the deck and blocks a fire ball before Logan sends it forward with a sharp thrust of the heel of his palm, knocking a wave of screaming soldiers into the ocean. 

“ _Take that, you absolute fucking dipshits!_ ” Logan’s voice is a hoarse, guttural shriek; his face is dusty and streaked with tears, but he’s emanating fury with every single inch of his tiny body. The remaining soldiers wisely jump off the side of the deck and splash into the sea before Logan can shove them. 

“Logan!” Thomas shouts. Logan turns towards his brother’s voice, sprinting over to meet Thomas halfway. Thomas snatches his brother up off the ground and grips him tightly, one hand pressing on the back of his head, gripping his shirt with white knuckles. “Lo, oh my goodness gracious, how did you _do_ that?!” 

“So it turns out,” Logan says, voice shaking and muffled by his brother’s shoulder, “that many metals have earth-based impurities within them, which can be manipulated by strong earth benders. I believe I have just invented a new type of bending.” 

Fire flares up from the sea beside them - a flare shot up by one of the overboard fire benders. “We have to go, now!” Virgil says, throwing the spear down. “Patton should be over here with Remy any minute -”

Remy roars in the sky as he swoops down to the deck of the ship, landing just shy of the place where Logan exploded up through the ship. Virgil scrambles up into the saddle, followed by the twins, Thomas, and Logan, and Patton whistles Remy up into the sky and away from the destroyed Fire Nation ship behind them. The soldiers in the water try to launch fireballs after them, but the ocean hampers them. 

By the time a drunken Ruon-Jian staggers back to his ship, they’re long gone.

* * *

“I’m sorry.” 

Virgil looks up from where he’s tending the meat roasting over the fire to see Logan standing next to him. He’s fidgeting nervously with a rock in his hand, and he’s sliding one foot back and forth to raise and crush a small pile of earth beside him. 

“What?” 

“Can I sit down?” 

“If you want to.” Logan bends a small stump of earth and sits next to Virgil. 

“I have been . . . unfair to you.” 

“How so?” Virgil knows exactly how so, but he intends to let Logan go at his own pace. 

“You saved my life,” Logan says. “You saved all of our lives, that night in the forest. I was unfair to you, and I . . . I am sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Lo. I didn’t think about how the idea of losing your bending, even temporarily, would affect you, since your bending is so integral to who you are and how you experience the world.”

“Roman has been hostile towards you lately.” It’s not a question.

“He’s been better recently.” 

“Still. The blame for that rests on my shoulders.” 

“How is Princey’s state of mind _your_ fault?” 

“I . . . confided in him. My worries, my anxiety, my irrational worst-case scenario fear that you might attack me and leave me powerless again. And I know you, Virgil, I know that you would never do that. But I . . .”

“Lo, I understand. You’d just been in a very dangerous situation where you couldn’t bend and you were rendered powerless. I would have been scared in your shoes too. You’re strong, emotionally and in terms of your bending, but you _are_ still a twelve year old kid. It’s natural for you to get overwhelmed like that.” 

Logan reaches a hand out towards Virgil, who slowly reaches out and takes it. Logan grips his hand tightly, and Virgil curls his fingers loosely around Logan’s. “I still hurt you,” he says. “I am sorry, Virgil. I exacerbated Roman’s response by expressing my fears and thereby validating his own unfounded suspicions. I do not know if Roman will ever apologize to you, but . . . but I will apologize, for myself, and for Roman if you will have it.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for Roman,” Virgil says. “But I accept your apology for you.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil squeezes his hand tightly to signal that he’s smiling back.

* * *

They spend the night in a forest that’s practically thrumming with spiritual energy on their way to the North Pole. Thomas is twitchy the entire time, jittering and full of exuberance. Virgil can feel something strange, like there’s a string instrument in his chest that’s resonating at three different frequencies. He worries that he’ll have trouble sleeping, but when he curls into his sleeping bag he’s out like a light. 

He doesn’t stay unconscious long, though. 

Virgil sits bolt upright in the middle of the night to see the woman from his dreams - tall and ethereal, wearing gossamer and silk, long hair braided elaborately up off her face. Everyone else lies sleeping around the dying embers as she walks through the camp, trailing the train of her dress over their sleeping bodies. 

He reaches for a knife, but he can’t seem to find any. The woman looks at him, and there’s something familiar in her eyes that Virgil can’t place. “Who are you?” Virgil calls. “What do you want with me?! Why do I keep seeing you everywhere?!” 

_Come_. Her mouth doesn’t open, but Virgil knows that the soft voice he’s hearing is unmistakably hers. _Come to the water, and you will see. Come to the water, and you will know_. 

She turns and drifts through the forest. Virgil quickly kicks off his sleeping bag and scrambles to follow her. He’s moving much faster than she is, but he never seems to catch up to her no matter how hard he tries. Finally, he bursts out of the underbrush to see a large lake, almost perfectly round, with the half-full moon gleaming and reflected perfectly in the center. 

_Come to the water,_ the voice echoes. _You will see. You will know._

“What will I see?!” 

_You must see. You must know._

Virgil circles the lake to a small overhanging rock, climbs to the top, and kneels down to peer into the lake, His reflection stares back up at him from the perfectly still lake, and then it shimmers in the moonlight. The woman appears next to him; when VIrgil turns, there’s no one behind him, but the reflection remains in the pool.

_Know your history, little moonbeam. Know from whom you came._

The pool shimmers again, and suddenly the lake explodes with color. 

_A young couple kneels at the edge of a small pool. “Please,” the man says. His voice shakes with pain. “Tui and La, most merciful of spirits, please heal our daughter. Please let our precious Oma live.” They lower a small, cloth-wrapped bundle into the pool; the young woman lets out a choked sob and wipes her eyes._

_The water around the bundle begins to glow white, so bright that the young couple avert their eyes. The light dies with a sudden flash, and the bundle begins to squirm and cry. The couple pulls the baby out of the water, brushing aside the blankets to reveal dark hair rapidly turning white._

_“Thank you!” the woman gasps, hugging her child against her chest as her husband wraps a hand around her shoulders. “Oh, my daughter, my daughter - Tui, La, thank you, thank you so much!”_

_“Oma,” Virgil murmurs. The name tastes familiar in his mouth, but he doesn’t know why. The pool blurs and shifts, and then the scene changes. A young woman with snow-white hair stands in front of a young man, offering him a very familiar necklace._

_“Did you make this, Oma?”_

_“I did. I used water bending to carve the symbol. It is a traditional symbol of betrothal for the Northern Water Tribe.” The man’s mouth drops open._

_“Are - are you asking me to marry you?”_

_“I don’t know if it’s traditional for women to proposition men down here, Yuan, but I really,_ really _love you and I wanna be your wife. If - if you’ll have me, that is . . .”_

_Yuan surges forward and kisses Oma so fiercely that she nearly drops the necklace. “Oh, Oma, of_ course _I’ll marry you!”_

_Virgil’s hand goes to his neck, gently grasping the pendant hanging between his collarbones. “D . . . Dad?”_

_The scene shifts again, and all the color drains from the picture. Oma stands with her back to Virgil, staring out over the ocean. Yuan hurries over, a traditional Water Tribe baby carrier strapped to his back. He sets it down, and Virgil gasps when he sees the little baby tucked inside, wrapped in a very familiar blue and purple blanket. The moon is blood red._

_"Please, don’t do this,” Yuan begs, in words that Virgil knows from a dream. “Please, Oma.”_

_Oma’s eyes are glazed when she looks towards him. “I am sorry, my love,” she says, cupping Yuan’s face. “But I much do this. The world has been thrown out of balance, horrifically so. It is my duty to put it right again.”_

_“But - but think of our son! How will he grow up without his mother? How will I go on without you?”_

_“The moon is gone, Yuan. Can you not feel it? Something has happened at the Northern Water Tribe. Something has happened to the spirit.”_

_Yuan lifts a hand to press over Oma’s against his face. “Please, Oma. It does not have to be you.”_

_“Oh, my love, I am sorry, but it cannot be anyone else.” She leans in and kisses him firmly. “I know you will do a wonderful job raising our son. You will teach him to be a good, kind man, like you. He will be someone the whole world can be proud of.”_

_Oma kneels by the little baby carrier, but instead of looking at the baby she looks directly up at Virgil. “Little moonbeam, I have to leave you now. Your father will take excellent care of you, I know, but please, please know that I am not leaving you because I want to. I am leaving to save you, and the world. I love you, Virgil. I love you with all my heart.”_

_Oma gently steps into the water, beginning to glow. Yuan picks up the baby Virgil from his carrier and cradles him close to his chest as Oma dissolves into moonlight. Color comes flooding back into the world, and the moon goes from red to brilliant silver in an instant._

_Virgil’s tears drip down into the lake, creating ripples that disrupt the image. He leans down, looking into the pool, and the woman - the spirit of the moon, his_ mother _, appears over his shoulder._

_“M - Mom?”_

_“My little moonbeam,” she says. “I am with you, always. In your hour of greatest need, I will be at your side. You need only call on the spirits of the moon and ocean, and I will answer your call.”_

_“Mom - I - I -”_

_“I am so proud of the man you have become. I love you, Virgil.”_

_“I love you too,” Virgil whispers._

Virgil wakes up in his sleeping bag with tears streaming down his face.

* * *

“What are we going to do?” Patton whispers. They’re all pressed together in a tight ring on the beach, back to back, surrounded by cohort upon cohort of Fire Nation soldiers. Two whole fleets of Fire Navy ships loom in the distance, catapults stocked with flaming rocks ready to launch. Ruon-Jian stands at the front of the cohorts, smirking at them. 

“What will you do now, Avatar?” he laughs. “You are completely surrounded.” 

“Could we call Remy?” Thomas whispers. Patton shakes his head. 

“Too far away, and they’d shoot him down with nets.” 

“Whisper all you like, but there’s no way out of this for you!” Ruon-Jian calls. “I will capture you here and now. I will bring you before the Fire Lord in chains. Imagine the glory I will receive! I bring him the Avatar, a powerful earth bender, an air bender, a demon who can rob benders of their bending, and his disgraced sons all in one fell swoop!” 

Virgil turns to look at the ocean, soaking in his last view before he’s kidnapped. He knows they’ll fight, of course they will, but there’s no way that they could win. They’re horrendously outnumbered. Ruon-Jian, apparently not bothered about winning this battle, keeps talking. 

“This will be my crowning glory! I will regain my honor after my horrendous defeat at the North Pole all those years ago. I should have gone down in history as Ruon-Jian, Conqueror of the North Pole, Slayer of the Moon Spirit, but that _witch_ took everything away from me! Now, at last, I will have my revenge! I will be exalted for centuries as the savior of the Fire Nation!” 

Ruon-Jian keeps talking, but Virgil has long since stopped listening. The full moon glows brightly above the ocean, and he can hear his mother’s voice in his ear. 

_I sacrificed myself to stop the world from falling out of balance, but I could not remove Ruon-Jian from this world. You have the power to stop him, my little moonbeam. Come to the water, and I will grant you the power to save your friends._

“But they’ll all know . . .”

_They will not reject you, Virgil. Come to the ocean, and you will be free._

Virgil looks up at the full moon, and he can see his mother’s face smiling down at him. He takes a step towards the sea.

* * *

Roman watches Virgil step towards the ocean. There are no soldiers blocking his path, since Ruon-Jian hadn’t assumed it was a viable escape route, and Virgil walks like he’s floating. “Virgil, what are you doing?” 

“Going to the ocean? It will not save you, even if you could bend it. There’s an armada out there, waiting to launch an attack at my command. Let him go.” Ruon-Jian laughs, and Roman resists the urge to flip him off. He hurries up to Virgil, gripping his shoulder. Virgil turns, and his eyes are glassy and blank. There’s a silvery sheen over his eyes. 

“Wh - what -”

“It is okay, Roman.” Virgil’s voice is placid and monotone, but he’s smiling. “I will go to the ocean, and we will be free.” Roman’s hand falls away, and Virgil continues his slow trek to the ocean. The waves lap around his ankles, and Virgil turns to face Ruon-Jian and his soldiers. “I call on La, the spirit of the ocean. I call on Tui, the spirit of the moon. Come to my aid. Help me defend my friends. Help me defeat the menace that slew your physical form at the North Pole. I will exact your revenge.” 

“What are you rambling about?” Ruon-Jian laughs. Roman recognizes the way he curls his fists nervously and quickly hurries to rejoin the clustered knot of his friends. Virgil begins to move, arms sliding fluidly back and forth, and the waves move with him. 

“That brat is a water bender?!” Ruon-Jian roars. 

“Virgil?” Patton sounds small and stunned. Thomas gasps. 

“What the shit?” Remus demands. 

Virgil’s entire body is illuminated with a brilliant silver light as the full moon glows like the midday sun. The ocean swirls up around him, encasing him up to his waist and lifting him up in a watery pillar. The waves pull him out to sea, rising higher and higher; the whole ocean is bathed in moonlight, and it glows with an otherworldly light. 

“The spiritual energy is strong, and it’s getting stronger,” Thomas says. His eyes are starting to gleam, but they pale in comparison to the silver glow of Virgil’s irises. They’re so bright Roman can still see them from the shore. Streaks of light start to shoot through the waves, coalescing into a gleaming ball of light. It shoots up through the surface of the water, forming an enormous koi fish with a gleaming spot like the full moon on its forehead. It dives toward Virgil, disappearing into the pillar of ocean holding him up, slowly lifting him higher and higher, closer and closer to the full moon. The entire pillar begins to glow, light spreading through the ocean. 

“Strike him down!” Ruon-Jian shrieks, shooting an elaborate flame into the sky. The ships start to arm their catapults, setting their projectiles ablaze, but Virgil just keeps bending. The ocean beneath the armada begins to glow, and then it begins to move. 

Roman watches in shock as the ocean roils beneath the ships like a pot about to boil over. The ships launch their projectiles, but an enormous wall of water rears up and absorbs them, dousing the fire instantly and dragging them down to the sea floor. Virgil’s arm motions become circular, and a gaping maw of a whirlpool opens beneath the Fire Navy. 

“No!” Ruon-Jian cries. “Stop him! Do something! Anything!” The soldiers on the beach can only stare in horrified fascination as the ocean reaches up and swallows the fleet whole. The ships sink down below the waves, which smooth out to a perfectly placid surface. Ruon-Jian shoves his soldiers aside and pushes his way to the edge of the water. “How dare you attack my fleet?!” 

Virgil turns around. His eyes are pools of liquid silver - no white, no iris, no pupil. When he speaks, his voice is echoey and strange. “ _You have attacked my people. You slew my father. You slew the Moon Spirit. You have ravaged this land for your own selfish gain your entire life. You are not entitled to the lives of others. You have taken more lives than I can begin to count._ ” 

A long tentacle of seawater shoots forward and curls around Ruon-Jian’s waist. It yanks him forward sharply, holding him dangling above the water, arms pinned to his sides. The water freezes around him, holding him still as Virgil continues to speak. 

“ _Beloved friends. Treasured allies. Prepare yourselves now._ ” 

The ocean recedes further and further away from the shore. “What’s happening?” Roman asks. Remus has gone unnaturally pale, and he yanks Roman back by the shirt. Thomas and Patton move in tandem, bending a sphere of air that encases themselves, Logan, and the twins. 

“He’s creating a tidal wave!” Thomas shouts.

“What?” 

“A tsunami! A giant wave! He’s going to wash away everything on the beach!” 

The Fire Nation soldiers scramble to get off the beach, but the water is already surging towards them. “Logan, try and use the earth to ground us so we don’t get swept away!” 

“I can’t! It’s not firm earth, it’s sand, I can’t bend that as well! It fucks up my vision, too, I can’t - there’s nothing I can do!” 

The wave slams into the shore with a thunderous roar, tearing up the beach. Roman grabs his brother tightly as they’re all knocked off their feet by the surge of sea; Thomas and Patton do their best to maintain the bubble of air, but the ocean is relentless and it tears their work apart. Roman sucks in a gasp of air and holds his breath as he clings to Remus, fighting to try and reorient himself and drag his brother to the surface. 

All at once, the ocean is illuminated, and Roman feels himself rising. His head breaks water and he sucks in a breath of air, gasping and twisting around to try and see his brother and friends. What he sees instead is Virgil, encasing Ruon-Jian in water and hurling him out to sea. Virgil turns to look at Roman, bending the ocean around him to lift him up to eye level. 

“V - Virgil?” Roman asks. 

“ _Roman._ ”

“Where - where’s Remus? Where are the others?” 

“ _They are safe. I have them._ ” 

“You - you washed us away -”

“ _No. I would never allow harm to come to my family._ ” 

Roman turns to see Remus and Logan’s heads breaking water, coughing and gasping. Patton and Thomas are nearby, swimming towards the others. “Your . . . family?” Virgil nods. Before Roman can question him more, Virgil is bending again, and the ocean gently pushes Roman towards the others. They’re all gently deposited on the barren shore; Remus throws himself at his twin, and Roman clings to him tightly. 

The glow recedes from the ocean as Virgil slowly lowers back down into the water. He takes one, two, three steps out of the water, and the silver disappears from his eyes. “I - I . . .” 

Virgil collapses forward onto the sand, waves gently lapping at his body. A woman appears above him, glowing like the full moon, smiling gently. “Who - wh -”

“The Moon Spirit,” Thomas gasps. Roman pushes his sopping wet bangs off his forehead. 

“Take care of my son,” she says. Her voice echoes in their ears. “Help him recover. Bring him to the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole.” She dissolves into moonlight, and Roman is running before he knows what he’s doing.

* * *

_“Mom?”_

_“You did so well, my little moonbeam. I am so proud of you.”_

_“I could only do this because of you, couldn’t I?”_

_“I was infused with some of the Moon Spirit’s life force when I was a newborn. You were born before I gave the life force back to Tui, so some of the spirit’s essence is within you. That connection allowed me to speak to you. It allowed you to commune with Tui and La to save your friends. You are the only Southern Water Tribe member who offers them sacrifices every month. They remember you fondly.”_

_“My - my friends - are they - ?”_

_“Yes, little one. They are safe.”_

_“That’s good.”_

_“I may not always speak to you, Virgil, but I am always watching over you. I love you.”_

* * *

Virgil’s head lays pillowed in Roman’s lap as Remy flies like hell for the North Pole. Logan holds his hand tightly, keeping two fingers pressed against his inner wrist to monitor the faint but steady pulse. “He’s not going to die, is he?” Patton asks. 

“He better not,” Thomas says. 

“He won’t,” Roman says. “He won’t die. I won’t let him die.” 

He refuses to let Virgil die before he can apologize.

* * *

_Hello, little water bender._

_“You’re here, too?”_

_I am._

_“Where am I?”_

_Your body is with your friends. Your spirit is in the Spirit World. This is how we are able to commune so freely._

_“How - how do I get back to them? Am I trapped here forever?”_

_No. They are taking you to the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. The spiritual energy there will be great enough that the Avatar can redirect your spirit to your body. You will see them again. Worry not._

_“But . . . but will they want to see me? Roman, he was already scared of me. And now, what - what will he think? Will he hate me more?”_

_I cannot say. But you are nothing to be scared of, little water bender. I will keep you company until the Avatar arrives. I will protect you from the unsavory denizens of the Spirit World._

* * *

When they touch down in the North Pole, all Thomas has to do is say “I’m the Avatar” and everyone is falling all over themselves to help. Roman carries Virgil’s limp body cradled in his arms, and Thomas explains the situation. 

“The Moon Spirit herself told you to come?” the chief says. “Of course, we all remember when Tui and La saved Oma’s life. We did not know that she had become the new Moon Spirit. We did not know that she had had a child.” 

“Please,” Roman says. His voice shakes, but he doesn’t try to hide it. “Please, you - we have to help him.” 

“Of course. Right this way.”

* * *

_“Thomas?”_

_“Virgil! You’re okay! Oh, thank the spirits.”_

_“Are you here to take me back?”_

_“Yeah, buddy. I’m here to bring you home.”_

_“Are you sure you wanna do that?”_

_“What?”_

_“I’ll just scare everyone again, won’t I?”_

_“You never scared me, Virgil. Never.”_

_“I . . .”_

_“And I know that Roman’s really anxious to see you up and well again. Please come back?”_

_“B . . . I . . .”_

_“Who else will teach me to water bend, huh? I won’t learn from anyone else. Come on, Virgil. Come back to us. Come back to me.”_

_“I . . . you . . .”_

_“We miss you, Virgil. I miss you.”_

_“. . . Okay, Thomas.”_

* * *

Virgil opens his eyes slowly. Everything hurts - his chest, his head, his arms, his hair, his fingers, his thighs, everything. “Ow . . .”

“Virgil?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

Slowly, the world comes into focus. He’s laying in a warm area, with his head in someone’s lap. His gaze travels up to see Roman, looking down at him with a strange look. It almost looks like fondness. Patton is sitting on one side of him, Logan on the other; they’re both holding his hands. Remus is sitting next to Thomas, whose eyes are glowing with spiritual energy. 

“You’re all safe.” His voice is a scratchy, relieved whisper. 

“We are.” Roman carefully pushes Virgil’s bangs off his forehead. “Virgil, I - I am so sorry.” 

“Sorry?” 

“For everything. I’ve been absolutely horrible to you, and you didn’t deserve any of that. And you still almost killed yourself to save us - to save me. Can - can you ever forgive me?” 

Virgil snorts, wincing when it makes his chest ache. “Princey, you’re - you’re a god damn idiot.” He wheezes a little, and Roman hurries to prop him up so that he can breathe more easily. “I forgive you. I know you’re a little lacking in the brains department -”

Roman makes an offended noise. Remus cackles, Logan grins, and Patton stifles a giggle. 

“ - but I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at any of you.” Roman offers a hesitant smile, and Virgil smiles back. 

“I’m mad that you didn’t tell us you were a water bender, though!” 

“I have to upstage your drama somehow, Princey.” Roman squawks in mock offense, and Virgil laughs even though it hurts his chest. “Seriously, though. You guys are my - my family. I love you, all of you. Even your gremlin brother.” Remus grins proudly at the gremlin moniker.

“We love you too, Virgil!” Patton grins, leaning down to gently hug Virgil. Logan squeezes his hand, and Roman hugs him a little closer. Virgil lets his eyes slide shut, unworried; he knows that no matter what happens, his family has his back.


	5. epilogue: spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief nonspecific death mention

Virgil stares into the mirror hanging on his wall, humming as Patton brushes through his long hair. “Are you sure we have enough time for intricate hair stuff, Pat?” 

“There’s a reason I woke you up early,” Patton says, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair to test for knots. “I knew this would take a while!” 

“But you have to get yourself ready for today too, will you have enough time?” 

“I have a lot less hair than you do.” Patton runs a hand over his shorn-short curls, and Virgil smiles. “Plus, your hair is so pretty! I wanna make sure that we show it off, you deserve to put it on display.” Virgil blushes, reaching up to tuck an unruly strand behind his ear. Ever since his encounter with the moon and ocean spirits, he’s had streaks of silver-white in his dark hair. _Spirit-touched,_ the chief of the Northern Water Tribe called him. _Blessed by Tui and La._

“What are you going to do with it?” 

“I’m gonna do some fancy braids! Maybe add a couple little buns on the top, I’m not sure. But we have to make you look wonderful for the ceremony!” 

“It’s not even about me,” Virgil grumbles. Patton just picks up a comb and carefully pulls it through the silky-smooth hair in his hands, humming as he separates it out into different sections. Virgil closes his eyes and lets Patton work, dozing off to the soothing feelings of Patton carding his hands through his hair.

“Aaaaaand done!” Virgil blinks his eyes open slowly, gasping when his reflection in the mirror comes into focus. Patton has braided his hair back into two small braided buns on the top of his head, with a longer main braid hanging down his back. The braided buns are held in place with small hairpins that gleam like stars, and the large braid in the back is looped around in an intricate design held in place with a silver and iridescent mother-of-pearl hairpin ornament designed to look like the full moon. 

“I look . . . beautiful.” 

“No need to sound so surprised, silly! You _are_ beautiful.” Patton leans over his shoulder to press their cheeks together; Virgil leans into the touch gently. “Can you get yourself into your clothes, or do you need help?” 

“I’ll be alright,” Virgil says. “Go get yourself ready. Roman will slaughter us himself if we’re late to his wedding.” Patton laughs, pressing a chaste kiss to Virgil’s cheek before disappearing out of the room with a gust of wind. Virgil spends a few more moments admiring his intricately done black-and-silver hair before turning to the wardrobe in the corner. 

Inside is a resplendent outfit modelled in the style of traditional Southern Water Tribe ceremonial garments. Roman had ordered it specially, created from lighter fabrics that will keep him from overheating in the warmer climate of the Fire Nation. It’s a deep ocean-blue, trimmed with enough furs to be a Water Tribe garment but lacking the traditional heavier over-furs. The detailing is sewn in with pure silver thread, showing a pattern of waves, fish, and other sea creatures. On the back is a large full moon, composed of two koi fish swirling together in perfect tandem. 

Virgil hadn’t wanted to accept it, when Roman presented it to him, but Roman had insisted. Virgil’s never owned a garment this nice before, and he has to admit that he loves every aspect of it. Carefully, he steps into the pants and pulls on the robe, wrapping it around himself and carefully winding the broad silver ribbon around his waist. Someone knocks on the door as he’s fumbling to tie the bow. 

“Virge?” Thomas calls. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Not yet! Can you come in and help me out real quick?” 

Thomas ducks inside the room. He’s wearing a dark green jacket in the traditional Earth Kingdom style, embroidered on the back with the symbols of the four nations, and black pants edged in gold. A large Earth Kingdom symbol is emblazoned over his breast, and his hair has been wrestled into a decent-looking style. “You look very official,” Virgil says. Thomas looks at him, and his jaw drops open. 

“You look . . . _wonderful_.” Virgil feels his face heat up in a fierce blush as Thomas takes a step closer. “What do you need?” 

“The . . . I - the ribbon,” Virgil manages. “I need it tied in a bow behind me, but I - I can’t see -” 

“Of course! Here, let me -” 

Thomas comes up behind him, and his warm hands brush over Virgil’s colder ones as he takes the ribbon. “Your hair is amazing. Who did it, Patton?” 

“He woke me up early to get it all done. I was worried he wouldn’t have enough time to get dressed, but I think he’s okay.” 

“Too tight?” 

“No, it’s good.” Thomas makes a few more quick loops and tugs the bow tight. “There we go, you look perfect! I mean, you always look perfect, but I -”

Thomas cuts himself off, but Virgil is grinning when he turns around. “Thanks, Thomas. I appreciate you.” He smiles, and Thomas reaches forward to tuck a stray hair behind Virgil’s ear. Virgil doesn’t think Patton had left a single strand of hair out of place; was it all just an excuse to touch him? Thomas’s fingers are warm and tender against his cheek. 

The door slams open, and the moment shatters. Logan storms in, wearing an outfit that is styled identically to his brother’s but is entirely dark green, patterned with Earth Kingdom symbols and a large golden badger-mole on the back of his jacket. “We are going to be _late_ if you all do not _move your asses!_ ” he shouts. 

“You look nice in your outfit, Logan!” Thomas says, clearly trying to distract his brother from what’s happening. “We were just making sure that Virgil’s outfit looks good.” 

“Well I think you all look _fabulous_ ,” Logan says sarcastically. “Let’s _go_ already!” 

Thomas throws Virgil a smile over his shoulder as Logan grabs his arms and storms off into the hallway. Virgil takes a moment to gather his composure before he follows them.

* * *

The ceremony is beautiful. 

Thomas, as the Avatar, officiates the wedding. Roman is resplendent in dark red Fire Nation robes, decorated with gold curling around his sleeves and dragons twining together on his back and his chest. The golden flame crown gleams around his dark topknot, and his face is soft and open, full of love and adoration. Remus, in matching red robes decorated with golden lightning, stands behind him as his best man. 

Dolos, in contrast, wears golden robes, detailed with red flames. His hair is pulled back in a simple braid, showing the scar on the side of his face. He’s stopped being afraid of it since the defeat of Roman and Remus’s father, and he isn’t ashamed to show it to the throngs of assembled Fire Nation citizens now. He wears a delicate circlet of braided gold and a flame-shaped golden hair comb pinned at the top of his braid. 

Virgil stands with Logan behind Dolos. He’s formed a relatively close friendship with Dolos in the few years since the defeat of the Fire Lord, and he stands proudly as his best man. Patton, resplendent in layers of thin fabric that all assemble to form a traditional Air Nomad robe with a flowy cape-train-thing arching behind him, stands behind Remus on Roman’s side. Emile is in the front row of guests, already sobbing audibly into a handkerchief. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Fire Lord Roman and his beloved, Dolos,” Thomas says, voice clear and firm, and Virgil smiles.

* * *

The ceremony ends with Virgil bending a stream of water up over Roman and Dolos’s heads in the shape of a huge heart. He bends beautiful fractals of ice up out of the heart to create a halo around it, and when Roman and Dolos press their mouths together in a kiss to seal the marriage bond he bends it to explode in a shower of sparkling ice crystals that rain down on the happy couple and the crowd. Patton airbends a shower of rose petals down alongside the ice crystals, and Virgil smiles when one lands on Roman’s nose and nearly makes him sneeze in his new husband’s face.

* * *

Thomas catches up with him later that evening, on the balcony overlooking the wedding reception. There are paper lanterns suspended in the dimming sky, decorated with the colors of the Fire Nation and delicate cutout dragons. In the center of the pavilion, Roman and Dolos spin in slow, lazy circles, leaning their heads together and giggling like children. Remus is whirling Patton around in wild circles, and Logan is quietly chatting with Emile on the fringes of the party. 

“How are you doing?” Thomas asks. Virgil exhales, staring out over the party. 

“It’s pretty stressful, being down there with all those people. So I’m up here watching them instead of interacting with them.” 

“If it okay if I’m here, then? Do you want me to -”

“No!” Virgil yelps. “I - uh - I mean - you don’t - you don’t count as people. It’s like . . . I know you, I’m comfy with you, I don’t have to expend a ton of energy to talk to you. So you don’t count as people. You’re good.” 

Thomas smiles, leaning on the railing next to him. “Okay, then, I guess I’ll stay.” He bumps his shoulder against Virgil’s, and Virgil bumps him back. “Your ice was incredible.” 

“Really? You liked it?” 

“It made their wedding kiss look magical. I’m sure it was a moment they’ll never forget.” Virgil feels his face heat up with a blush, and Thomas laughs. “Roman definitely loved it. It was his idea to have you and Patton spice up the wedding, remember?” 

“Yeah . . .” Virgil’s gaze finds Roman again. He and Dolos spin so that Roman is facing the balcony; he looks up at Virgil and smiles, mouthing _Thank you_ over Dolos’s head before leaning back into his new husband. “I’m glad that we won. I’m glad that you managed to take down Roman’s dad.” 

“Me, too,” Thomas says. “I’m just lucky that I didn’t have to kill him. I never wanted to kill him. It’s just . . .”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Virgil says. “I understand. But I’m glad that you didn’t have to kill him, either.” Thomas presses his shoulder more firmly into Virgil’s; Virgil leans his head onto Thomas’s arm. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Thomas leans his head on top of Virgil’s. His hand slides into Virgil’s, warm and broad in contrast to Virgil’s slender and cool, tenderly curling his fingers around Virgil’s palm. There’s plenty of opportunity for Virgil to pull away if he’s not comfortable. Virgil shifts his hand and carefully pushes his fingers in between Thomas’s, squeezing their hands together. 

“Is this okay?” Virgil asks again. 

“It’s perfectly fine,” Thomas repeats. The moon rises, full and bright, over the wedding party, and Virgil swears that he sees his mother’s smile reflected in the pattern of the craters. 

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on tumblr! // [@teacupfulofstarshine](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


End file.
